


the world as I see it now

by murderousdeer



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M, One Shot Collection, Xmas fic, alternative universe, valentine's day fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-06 03:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14633517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderousdeer/pseuds/murderousdeer
Summary: A collection of one shots and various holiday exchange fics from Tumblr, all AUs.





	1. we could be together, if you wanted to

**Author's Note:**

> I decided it was finally time to collect all my one shots in one place for easier reading. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Co-stars AU. Warning: forced outing.

“Come on, mate, at least consider it.” Adam says and Aaron doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh at him or throttle him.

The warm California sun is shining on them, making Aaron sweat under his long sleeves, but he bets he has nothing on Adam’s smart suit. He can’t say he can muster a lot of sympathy at the moment.

“Give me one good reason why I would want to get into a PR relationship with Robert Sugden, of all people.” Aaron asks, voice rising towards the end. He hopes that if he says it enough time Adam will come back to his senses and realize that the whole thing is ridiculous.

Adam opens his mouth to reply, but Aaron cuts him off. “A good reason that isn’t ‘because Victoria flippin’ Sugden asked.’” He adds. Adam rolls his eyes but Aaron can see a pink flush rise on his face. He’d laugh but he’s afraid it might undercut his anger.

“He’s trying to rehabilitate his image after the whole  _debacle_ ,” Adam says, half whispering the last word, as if speaking too loud might reignite the whole issue again. In a city like Los Angeles, Aaron’s not too sure it wouldn’t be possible, “and you’d be perfect.”

“He was outed as bisexual not as a drug lord.” Aaron snaps without any real heat. He doesn’t want to do it, but he knows that if Adam keeps pressing, he will. “You can say the word.”

“I was trying to be sensitive!” Adam shoots back, already laughing.

When Aaron had decided to try acting as a sort of therapy, most people had laughed at him. When he had decided to really get into it, try to make it into a career, most people had told him he was crazy. When he had decided to move to Los Angeles and try it for real, most people had deserted him. But not Adam. Never Adam.

Adam had sat outside every single one of Aaron’s acting classes and in the audience of every single one of his theater performances. He’d read every single book, article, or internet page he could get his hands on about managing actors. He’d cashed in every single chip he had and bought a ticket to L.A. with Aaron.

Aaron knows he owes Adam. He is acutely aware.

But Robert Sugden is a nightmare.

“You’re failing.” Aaron replies, his tone dry.

They both laugh. Adam doesn’t ask again.

-

Robert Sugden is famous. And rich. Handsome. Talented too, if you care to see him in anything other than the soulless blockbusters he keeps making.

Aaron is not a snob. He enjoys a nice, soulless, Michael Bay movie as much as the next bloke who likes cars.  He also understands, in somewhat abstract terms, that money is important. What annoys him, is that Robert could do so much more than the umpteenth mediocre action movie. He’s got the fancy education and the early indie movie cred to prove it (not that Aaron has obsessively watched those or anything).

Aaron had said that to his face once.

He thinks this feud might be his fault.

-

Aaron is aware that he’s looking at Adam like he has two heads. He knows mostly because Adam’s smile is wavering slightly, getting wobbly at the edges.

“You’re joking.” Aaron says. It must be a joke.

“Aaron, I would never joke about David Fincher.” Adam says and Aaron knows it’s true.

Aaron is going to be in a David Fincher movie.

He feels like he could fly away, he’s so happy.

“There’s just one small thing.”

And he’s back on the ground.

“What?” Aaron asks, wary.

“Robert Sugden has been cast as well.” Adam says.

-

Aaron sees Robert coming in from the glass walls of the conference room and has to take a moment to remind himself to breathe like a normal person. He’s not star struck. He’s met Robert before, unfortunately. It’s just that, well, sometimes when people see Aaron on set before hair and makeup have done their jobs, they think he’s a member of the crew. No one could ever mistake Robert for anything but the movie star he is.

He’s wearing a suit to a table read, like the posh twat he is, his hair is artfully tousled, and Aaron is pretty sure the watch on his wrist costs more than Aaron’s car. And Aaron’s car is pretty much the only luxury he indulges in.

Robert comes in, shakes Fincher’s hand and hugs the script writer, whispering something in her ear and making her laugh. He sits down. Then, he smirks in Aaron’s direction.

-

The table read has gone well, really well, and Aaron is buzzing. He has all these feelings and thoughts swarming inside his head and they aren’t his and it’s making him itch to go out and do something. Anything. He’s feeling reckless and happy.

It’s probably why when Robert sides up to him and says “let’s get a drink” low enough that only Aaron can hear him, Aaron says yes instead of shoving him aside and running out of there.

“Come on, I’ll drive.” Robert says, climbing into his car, a silver beauty Aaron has dreamed about more times than he cares to admit.

He’s half expecting Robert to drive them to a fancy club, somewhere with heavy bass music and overpriced drinks. Robert instead makes a turn towards Hollywood Hills.

“I thought we could get a drink at my place.” Robert says, smiling at Aaron and Aaron smiles back.

There’s a weird sort of tension in the car, but it’s not unpleasant. Aaron knows where this is going.

It’s not a good idea.

They’re co-stars. Robert’s a dick. Robert was just recently outed. Robert apparently wanted to date Aaron as a sort of PR stunt.

Aaron hasn’t managed to beat the odds and become an actor by letting opportunities pass him by.

They slip inside Robert’s house and it’s not what Aaron was expecting. It’s modern and sleek, yes, but it also feels warm and lived in. There’s a rumpled duvet on the massive sofa, as if someone has slept on the couch and forgot to straighten it out. Aaron doesn’t know why he finds it such an endearing thing, but here he is.

“What can I get you?” Robert asks, walking towards the kitchen.

“Beer, please.” Aaron replies, making himself comfortable on the couch. He starts going through the books on the coffee table. There’s a couple staples of every actor’s home, big picture books about old Hollywood that no one ever really opens, but there’s also three novels. All three have bookmarks stuck in them.

“Here you go.” Robert says, handing Aaron a beer. It’s fancier than what Aaron usually goes for, but at least it’s not American beer.

“So.” Aaron says, while Robert sits down next to him, simultaneously too close and not close enough. “You’re not doing the next summer blockbuster this year.”

Robert laughs. “Someone told me I should get back to, and I quote, ‘movies worth the price of the ticket.’”

Aaron scoffs. “And since when you listen to what anyone has to say?”

“Well, it also helps that I’ve been offered significantly fewer action roles recently.” Robert says and he’s looking at his beer to avoid looking at Aaron.

“I’m sorry about that.” Aaron says softly, putting a hand on Robert’s arm. It’s warm and solid.

Robert shrugs awkwardly.

He looks at Aaron from under his lashes and Aaron  _knows_  this is a move. He knows it. It doesn’t matter, it works.

They kiss, and it heats up immediately, Robert’s hands finding the skin under Aaron’s t-shirt, Aaron shoving Robert’s suit jacket off. They’re a flurry of hands and clothes and  _want_.

They tumble into Robert’s bed, a huge and soft thing, moaning and laughing and kissing.

Aaron might have been waiting for this one for a while.

-

“I can’t believe we haven’t done this earlier.” Aaron says. He’s craving a cigarette, but he doesn’t have any on him and he refuses to leave this bed. Possibly ever.

“I tried.” Robert replies, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Aaron’s chest.

“What? When?” Aaron asks, turning to look at Robert. He’s even more gorgeous now, stripped of all the artifice.

“I had my sister get in touch with your manager, didn’t he tell you?” Robert says, like this is normal.

“Was that your way of asking me out?” Aaron asks.

Robert shrugs as much as he can while lying on his side. “Sounded like a good idea at the time.”


	2. everything you say has water under it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting in jail AU. The prison industrial complex is bad.

“I have rights! I want to call my solicitor!” Robert shouts at the retreating form of the policeman. It looks suspiciously like the man is silently laughing at him. Robert is going to sue the whole damn police department.

He shouldn’t even be here.

“The more you shout the more they’re gonna keep you in here.” Says a voice with an unexpected Yorkshire accent behind him.

Robert turns around and sees a man lying on one of the benches. He’s got his eyes closed and he’s wearing all black. Robert can see bruises and cuts on his knuckles from there.

He goes back to shouting at the guards.

“I have rights!”

“Seriously, the more you yell the longer it will take them for them to process ya.” The man says again, still not stirring from his position. “They do it on purpose.”

“I need to get out of here!” Robert snaps at the man.

The man cracks an eye open. Even in the dimly lit space they’re in, Robert can see his eyes are a beautiful shade of blue.

“Mate, look around you, we all do.” He says with a smile that is just this side of too sharp.

Great. Ten minutes and Robert already managed to piss off the guy with blood on his hands. Because he’s in jail. Robert is in  _jail_.

He is so fucked.

He can feel the fight leaving him and he crumples into one of the benches, as far away from the other guy as possible. They’re the only ones awake in the cell (and oh G-d, Robert is in a cell), with another guy snoring softly on another one of the benches, and just because the guy doesn’t seem too inclined to hurt Robert right now, it doesn’t mean he won’t later on. Robert isn’t taking any chances.

The guy closes his eye again and Robert looks around. There’s nothing much to do while in a jail cell and Robert knows from experience that boredom is never good for him. He also feels a weird itch to see the man’s eye again. Maybe even both eyes, if he’s lucky.

“What are you in for?” He asks.

The man cracks the eye open again and looks Robert up and down a couple of times. It’s not leering or inappropriate, more like he’s trying to size Robert up.

“You care?” He asks with a scoff.

“Not particularly, but it’s either talking to you or having a very quiet nervous breakdown.” Robert shrugs. It’s intended as a joke, but there’s already an edge of panic in his voice.

The guy sighs and sits up, now facing Robert. He’s shorter than Robert had thought, but not as small as the dark baggy clothes make him look. He has dark brown hair, and those piercing blue eyes. He shrugs.

“There was a misunderstanding. I thought I was climbing into a friend’s house, but I got the wrong window.” He says and Robert irrationally hopes he can lie better than that or he’s facing some pretty serious breaking and entering charges.

“What about you –”

“Robert.”

“I’m Aaron. So, what happened?” Aaron asks. He looks, not eager, but interested. And well. Robert’s has had  _a day_.

“A fight broke out in a bar I was in. The police arrived and just arrested everyone. Including people not involved in the fight!” He replied, almost yelling the last part out.

“What bar was it?” Aaron asks.

Robert hesitates.

“Were you in a strip club?” Aaron asks again, conspiratorially.

“What? No! I was at the Therapy.”

“The gay bar?” Aaron asks. He looks confused. Robert can relate.

“I’m not gay.” He says, almost a reflex.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He replies and he looks like he’s about to go back to his not quite nap.

“I’m here on my honeymoon.” The words tumble out before he can really stop them. “With my wife.”

“Oh.” Aaron says. To his credit he doesn’t look like he’s about to laugh in Robert’s face.

“Yeah. Oh.”

-

“How did a Yorkshire lad like yourself end up here?” Robert asks.

“Moved here with a boyfriend.” Aaron says, and Robert senses a story there, but he doesn’t press.

“Ended badly?” Robert asks, trying to be tactful.

“Ended blandly.” Aaron replies, smiling pleased at his terrible joke. Robert will allow it. It’s late and they’re sharing a jail cell with a snoring guy. He’s gonna have to take the good with the bad. “But I liked the city and decided that staying here was better than going back home.”

-

“What do you mean you never read Stephen King? That’s a travesty!” Robert says, mock outrage mixing in with real outrage.

“Sorry I’m not a nerd.” Aaron replies, making a face.

-

“I’m not really out to anyone.” Robert says after a lull in the conversation. He’s sitting on the same bench as Aaron now.

“The wife was a dead giveaway.” Aaron says, and it’s sarcastic, but there’s an edge of sympathy there.

Robert rolls his eyes. “I’m not gay. I’m bi.”

“Then why were you in a gay bar on your honeymoon?” Aaron asks. There’s no real judgement there, for which Robert is really glad.

Robert has been asking himself the same question for a good few hours now. He’s nowhere near close to a good, or even acceptable, answer.

-

“No, mate, I swear, he was just standing there, completely naked, while a whole flock of sheep kept circling him like sharks.” Aaron says and he’s smiling a huge blinding smile.

And maybe it’s the story or maybe it’s the fact that it’s late, or maybe it’s Aaron, but Robert is laughing so hard there’s tears streaming down his face.

-

“I just needed space.” Aaron says, but he has a wistful look in his eyes, like maybe he’s starting to realize he doesn’t want so much of it anymore.

“So why don’t you just go back? I bet your family misses you.” Robert replies.

“It’s complicated.” Aaron says.

Robert gives him a dirty look, because it’s a cop-out and Aaron must know it.

“I wasn’t on good terms with everyone before I left.” He adds in a way that makes it clear the topic is closed.

“That’s bullshit.” Robert replies, gears up for Aaron to fight him on it.

-

“I was just never good enough.” Robert says, his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed. “I just thought that if I finally did things his way I would feel like he was proud of me.”

“I’m sorry.” Aaron says, putting one of his hands on Robert’s arm. It’s warm and solid and comforting, despite everything. “If he couldn’t see how amazing you are, it was on him.”

Robert scoffs. “We’re in jail.”

“For a misunderstanding. I know that bar, they have security cameras, I’m sure they’ll review the footage soon and let you go.” Aaron says. It’s barely anything, but it’s still reassuring.

“Robert.” Aaron says a few seconds later. He has a weird tone that makes Robert open his eyes and look at him. He seems worried.

“What’s wrong?”

Before Aaron can answer however, a police officer opens the door. “Livesy, come with me.” He says, nodding at Aaron.

“See you, Robert.” Aaron says, getting to his feet and walking out. He leaves with one last smile at Robert.

“See you.” Robert replies, with a type of sadness he can’t quite name in his voice.

-

Robert has resigned himself to spending his whole night in a jail cell. He’s made his peace with it. He has accepted it. What he hasn’t resigned himself to, is the fact that he will probably never see Aaron again.

He’s just thinking about that, when the same officer as before comes back.

“Sugden, it’s your lucky day, you’re out.” He says, opening the jail door.

“What? Just like that?” Robert asks, and well, if there’s some bitterness in his voice, he’s only human.

“With the excuses of the police department.” The officer says, looking like it’s paining him to do so.

Robert wants to argue. He wants to fight. He wants to threaten everyone involved in this from the arresting officer to the mayor. He’s also very tired. He wants to go back to his hotel, shower, and start the long and arduous process of making his wife believe whatever lie he’s going to spin to her.

He goes.

-

Outside he’s greeted by an unexpected sight. It’s Aaron, smoking while leaning on a car parked in front of the precinct.

“What are you doing here?” Robert asks, smiling despite himself.

“You thought I would be halfway to a courthouse by now?” Aaron asks with a grin.

“If not already on your way to prison.” Robert half-jokes.

Before Aaron can reply, a harried looking officer approaches him with a pile of documents in her arms. “Detective Dingle, I’m so glad you’re still here. Could you sign this for me, please?” She asks, basically shoving the entire pile and a pen at Aaron.

“Detective Dingle?” Robert asks. He should be confused, probably angry, definitely perplexed. As it is, he’s intrigued. It might be the exhaustion talking.

Aaron waits for the officer to walk away before talking again. “I wasn’t in there for you.”

“The sleeping guy?” Robert ventures.

“I can’t really talk about it.”

“How about you talk about you. Over breakfast. Detective Dingle.”


	3. long before the days of no surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amnesia AU.

Aaron sees the rock hit Robert like it’s in slow motion. He sees the arc of it, sees it come down, sees it strike the back of Robert’s skull.

Robert goes down.

-

Aaron sits next to Robert and holds his hand. He’s been sitting in the same position for three hours and he needs some water, but he doesn’t move. He wants to be the first thing Robert sees when he wakes up.

The doctors are optimistic, they think there’s no major damage, but with traumatic injuries like this, they can’t be sure until Robert wakes up. Aaron is not the praying type, but he’s considering making an exception right about now.

-

Robert’s fingers go from slack to gripping his hand and Aaron shoots up, his other hand on Robert’s face, carefully stroking his cheek while Robert’s eyes flutter open.

Aaron smiles at him, and if it’s a bit watery, well, no one can really blame him.

Robert smiles back, reflexively, before he really focuses and then confusion settles on his features.

“Aaron?” He says hoarsely. He says the name like it’s unfamiliar to him, like he’s sounding it out. It makes Aaron’s stomach drop to his knees.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay, the doctors said you’ll be alright.”

“Doctors?” Robert asks, an edge of panic to it, understanding dawning on him.

“You’re in the hospital. Don’t you remember?” Aaron replies, careful to keep his tone even.

“No. Not really. But Aaron why are you here? Where’s Chrissie?” Robert asks again and he’s looking around like she might materialize out of thin air any second now.

He lets Aaron’s hand go.

“Chrissie? Robert you’re not making any sense.” Aaron replies, panic rising in his throat like bile.

“My fiancée.” Robert clarifies. “Where is she?”

-

After that it’s a flurry of doctors and tests. The final diagnosis is “retrograde amnesia” which Aaron seems to understand is more of a symptom than a cause. The doctors are optimistic Robert will regain his memories, but well, Aaron isn’t feeling very trusting at the moment.

It all really boils down to what Robert does and doesn’t remember.

He remembers coming back to Emmerdale with Chrissie and Lawrence.

He remembers buying Home Farm.

He remembers Victoria telling him about Aaron.

He doesn’t remember ever meeting Aaron.

-

“I am married. To you. But you’re-” Robert says, clearly at a loss with how to finish the sentence.

“Way out of your league.” Aaron says, cracking a smile. Robert smiles back and that’s already something.

“I’m not gay.” Robert says and he might be the one with amnesia but Aaron is the one getting flashbacks.

“No, you’re bi. You told me.” He says and it feels like ages ago. He sees a flash of too familiar panic in Robert’s eyes and his heart clenches.

“I don’t think I have ever said that out loud.” Robert muses and he looks out of the window so he won’t have to look at Aaron.

Aaron hates this. He hates that this took his husband away from him, but he hates even more that it took Robert’s tentative acceptance of himself away too.

-

It’s hard. Because it’s Robert, undoubtedly himself, caustic and rash and caring, but it’s not  _his_ Robert.

They’re back at the Mill, there’s nothing more the doctors can do for now, and Robert won’t sleep in his bed, their bed, when Aaron is there.

He hasn’t asked how they got together yet.

He doesn’t wear the ring.

-

Aaron’s sleeping in Liv’s room for now, she’s back in the pub, at least until they can figure something out.

Aaron hopes it won’t be necessary.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to get some water and finds Robert sat on the sofa, surrounded by pictures. Their pictures. They’re from their weddings, vacations around Europe, various family gatherings. Aaron has left them out for Robert a while back, but Robert hasn’t looked at them, not until now.

Aaron puts a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Are you remembering something?” He asks, softly.

“Not really. I mostly see flashes I can’t place. And I remember feelings. I think I remember… water. And being scared.” Robert says, he looks tired.

Aaron swallows hard. “There was an accident, but don’t worry about that now.” Aaron says.

Robert nods.

And that’s another thing. Robert doesn’t know where his place is in his own life and it makes Aaron’s heart ache to see him so unsure. He wants Robert to fight him, but Robert just goes with most things now.

“Why did we get married twice?” Robert asks out of the blue, thumbing a picture of their second wedding. They’re both smiling and happy and Aaron can read the love on his face and Robert’s. There was a time when that would have embarrassed him, but now it just makes him feel fondness spreading in his chest.

“The first one wasn’t legal. You wanted to do something nice for me before I got sent down.” Aaron says as a way of explanation and looks at Robert’s face to see his reaction.

Robert makes a face.

“So I’m married to a bloke and he’s a scrapper and an ex-con? I did really well for myself, didn’t I?” Robert says, but it’s teasing and light. Aaron laughs.

“Oi! I think we’ve established I’m a catch.”

Robert laughs too.

“I must have loved you a lot.” He says with a shrug and going back to the picture. Like he didn’t just punch Aaron in the stomach with seven words.

-

They start gravitating towards each other again. It’s inevitable. It always is with them.

-

It’s been two weeks and Robert has started remembering some things. Mostly about Andy, Victoria, and Diane. He remembers paying Aaron and Ross to rob Home Farm (and that was a fun conversation). He remembers feelings more than he remembers events. He still doesn’t remember anything about Aaron.

-

Aaron is driving Robert to a doctor’s appointment, when Robert yells at him to stop the car.

They get out and it takes Aaron a few seconds to focus and realize they’re on the layby. By the time he gets out of the car his hands are shaking.

“Robert what’s wrong?” He asks and his voice is mercifully even.

“We were here. Our first kiss was here. I faked a break down.” Robert says and he’s looking at Aaron and Aaron feels like he’s seeing him for the first time in weeks.

“Badly.” Aaron replies, voice thick.

Robert smirks and Aaron feels like his knees might give out on him.

“I called Victoria while my engine was still running.” Robert admits, getting closer and closer to Aaron. “That’s how much I wanted you.”

It’s been years and it still sends shivers down Aaron’s spine.

“Do you remember what happened next?” Aaron asks and now Robert is so close he can feel his husband’s breath on his face, close to his mouth.

Instead of replying, Robert crashes into Aaron, none of the hesitance of the past few days in it. They kiss and it’s every bit like the first time, but better. Robert isn’t scared and going against what his brain is telling him, Aaron isn’t wary.

They kiss and it’s like Aaron’s breathing again for the first time since the accident.

-

They come home and they fall into bed and it’s perfect, despite everything, it’s always perfect. Robert’s muscle memory is still there and he still knows that side of Aaron better than he knows himself. It’s like coming home.

-

Robert starts wearing his wedding ring again.


	4. Four Mistletoe Kisses That Could Have Been And The One That Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four universes in which Robert and Aaron could have met under the mistletoe and the one where they didn’t need to.

_**i. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know** _

It’s not that Robert doesn’t think this date will go well, it’s that Robert is sure this date will be a disaster. For starters, Vic set it up, and it’s not like Robert doesn’t trust his sister, it’s just that, well, she’s married to Adam Barton, how discerning can she really be? And that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that she’s setting him up with a Dingle. 

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

If Robert had a little less self-respect he’d ask his sister which part of his personality or lived experiences have led her to believe he’s okay with dating a Dingle (again) just so he can erase it from existence. 

As it is, it’s a cold December evening and he’s sitting in the fanciest restaurant in Hotten – which granted, is not exactly upscale – waiting for Aaron Dingle.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait much.

Robert spots Aaron as soon as he comes in. With brown hair and a surly expression, he’s not hard to notice. He’s good-looking though, Robert will give him that. 

Aaron sits down and greets him with something like a grunt masquerading as a hello. 

Robert wants to hold the fact that he’s not wearing a tie against him, but well, it suits him. Robert has a sudden and vivid flashing image of himself licking the skin exposed by Aaron’s open shirt collar. He files it away for later use.

“So, Aaron, you’re Adam’s mate, right?” Robert asks, trying to make conversation. Mostly because Vic asked him to try. And because while Aaron might not be the love of his life, he wouldn’t be opposed to going home with him tonight if the stars align. 

“Yeah. You look nothing like Vic.” Aaron says, throwing the last part at Robert like an accusation. 

“Something wrong?” Robert asks, innocently enough. Aaron looks even less excited than Robert is to be here and that’s just hurtful.

“I know who you are.” Aaron says, with the sort of intensity most people would reserve for police interrogations. 

Robert waits for Aaron to elaborate, but he doesn’t. Robert idly wonders what he heard exactly, and from whom. Whether he knows about Katie, or Debbie, or more recently, how he’s been run out of London by Chrissie and Lawrence. He doubts Vic espoused about it at length, but Robert knows he can always count on Andy to recount his many misdeeds and wrongdoings.

“I know nothing about you.” Robert replies.

“Why are you here then?” Aaron asks, eyes set on Robert.

“Why are you?”

Aaron cracks the first smile of the evening. “Vic showed me a picture of you.”  
“Good to see you have your priorities in order.” Robert smirks back. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Let’s go.” Aaron says getting up from his chair.

Robert throws a few pound notes on the table, despite the fact that he didn’t order anything, and follows Aaron out of the door. 

“My car is parked at the corner.” Aaron says, putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“Let’s take my car.” Robert replies.

“Which one is your car?” Aaron asks, eyeing a nearby canary yellow Fiat Panda warily.

“The Porsche over there.” Robert replies, nodding towards his car on the other side of the road. 

“Okay.” Aaron says, making a face that on someone else would look impressed, but on him just looks vaguely interested. Robert wishes he wasn’t so into it. “Nice car.”

“You into cars?” Robert asks. He knows Aaron co-owns a scrapyard with Adam, so he thinks this is a fairly safe bet for a foray into something resembling a conversation.

Aaron shrugs. 

So much for conversation then.

Robert lets the silence stretch for a while. It’s too charged to be comfortable, but it’s definitely not awkward. 

“I used to be a mechanic.” Robert says after a while. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying to make conversation with Aaron, but he seems to be unable to stop himself.

“You don’t look like a mechanic to me.” Aaron replies, eyeing him slowly and deliberately.

“Well, I’m full of surprises.” Robert says, parking his car.

“Like the ex-wife.” Aaron shoot backs. Robert is going to murder Andy at some point.

“Less of a surprise and more of a long history of bad choices.” Robert says, rolling his eyes and getting out of the car.

He leads Aaron into his apartment building. A nice, quiet place in Hotten, far enough from Emmerdale to discourage Vic dropping in every day, but not so far that the commute is a nightmare. Not what Robert had dreamed as a kid, or as a rich, married man, but not bad. 

“Oddly self-aware coming from you.” Aaron replies with something like a smirk on his face.

“You don’t even know me!” Robert protests. 

“I know enough.”

“You’re infuriating.” Robert says, half dragging, half shoving Aaron into his apartment. The hallway and living room have been decked in Christmas decorations by Vic, in a misguided attempt to make Robert get into the holiday spirit. Mostly it just means he barely manages to avoid getting hit in the eye by a floating mistletoe branch while getting in. 

Robert slams the door shut and shoves Aaron into it. 

Aaron looks at him, his eyes dragging across Robert’s face before resting on Robert’s lips. 

There’s a moment of suspended electricity, right before either one of them moves and it’s probably the most charged moment of Robert’s life so far. Then they move together, reaching for each other in a kiss. Robert’s hands immediately go to Aaron’s sides, under his coat. Aaron takes the hint and takes it off, discarding it on Robert’s floor. Robert doesn’t really feel like minding.

“Bedroom. Now.” Aaron says, out of breath.

Robert leads the way.

_**ii. I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye** _

Aaron’s been in London the grand total of three hours when his friends drag him to a gay club. He puts up a token protest, but ultimately appreciates it. The split from Ed’s been weird. He’s at the stage where he feels like he should probably start going out again, but it still feels new and tentative. Getting dragged out means he gets to not overthink it too much.

The club is one of their usual places, dark and far too noisy, but the drinks are as cheap as they can be in a gay club in London and there’s always someone interesting. Tonight, it’s a tall blond man at the bar that catches Aaron’s eye. There’s something about him that Aaron can’t quite place, and well, he’s interested. 

“Go for it.” Matt says, nudging Aaron with his elbow.

“Go for what?” Aaron asks. Matt rolls his eyes.

“If you keep staring at him like that he’ll think you’re a serial killer.” Matt replies, because Matt is a good friend to Aaron.

“I’ll go get a drink.” Aaron concedes.

“Good boy.” Matt grins, shoving him lightly in the man’s general direction.   
Aaron ignores him and goes to order himself a pint. He’s halfway through it when he decides it’s probably safe to approach the man without his friends being assholes about it. 

“Bold fashion choice.” Aaron says, nodding towards the man’s hideous floral shirt. 

The man raises an eyebrow. “Really? Negging in 2015?” He asks, but he looks amused rather than insulted, and that’s already something.

“No, it’s just a really ugly shirt.” Aaron replies with a grin.

“You’re wearing a black t-shirt and a hoodie.” Robert points out.

“We’re in a club.” Aaron says with a shrug.

“Thanks for the tip, Tim Gunn.” The man scoffs.

“It’s Aaron, actually.”

“Robert.” The man replies.

“Having fun, Robert?” Aaron asks. Aaron’s not good at flirting, he can admit that, but during the years he’s learned how to send the right message across. If Robert’s raised eyebrow is anything to go by, he’s succeeded. 

“I am now. Can I get you anything to drink?” Robert asks, leaning on the bar. His shirt is untucked and Aaron can see a sliver of skin from where it opens slightly on Robert’s stomach. It must have been longer than Aaron realized since sleeping with someone because the sight is enough to make his mouth dry.

“A pint.” Aaron says, and if his voice is hoarser than it was a minute ago, Aaron hopes the music is loud enough that Robert didn’t notice.

“A classic.” Robert says signaling the bartender with a hand and ordering two beers.

“You can never go wrong with that.” Aaron replies, getting closer.

“I’ll drink to that.” Robert says, raising his glass. Aaron does the same. 

They both drink, side by side. They’re so close that Aaron can now feel the warmth of Robert’s body seeping from his clothes.

“So, Aaron, do you dance?” Robert ask, whispering into Aaron’s ear and sending a shiver down his spine.

“Not really.” Aaron replies, turning to face Robert. They’re only a few inches apart and Robert is smiling the kind of smile that Aaron’s sure gotten a lot of people in trouble during the years. 

“Weird place for a non-dancing, beer-drinking Northerner like you.” Robert says, glancing down at Aaron’s lips.

“I could say the same about you.”

“You could, yeah.” Robert says without breaking eye-contact with Aaron. His eyes have gotten dark and hungry, framed by the purple lights of the club. 

“Meet me in the bathroom.” Aaron replies, downing the rest of his pint in one. He doesn’t turn to look whether Robert is coming, he knows he is.

The place is mercifully empty when Robert barges in after him. He’s even good-looking under the neon bathroom lights. His hair artfully disheveled, his eyes a startling blue-green. Aaron grabs the lapels of Robert’s jacket and pushes him into one of the stalls. There’s a mistletoe branch crudely taped on the inside of the door, too low to be anything other than wildly suggestive. 

Aaron chances a look at Robert, rumpled and undone already and they haven’t even kissed yet. He lunges. The kiss is lips and teeth and tongue. Robert gasps into it, and it sends a thrill down Aaron’s spine. Aaron’s hands are tangled in Robert’s hair, Robert’s own fingers brushing Aaron’s skin from where they found their way under his shirt. 

Aaron falls to his knees.

**_iii. through the years we’ll all still be together, if the fates allow_ **

Robert doesn’t pine. That’s sort of his deal. He chases people and if it works it works and if it doesn’t he moves on. He doesn’t really dwell on his romantic failure. Much. Anymore. 

That’s probably why it’s taken him the better part of five years to realize he’s in love with his best friend. In his defense, it’s not like Aaron has made the whole process easy. 

He’s surly, sarcastic, and perpetually grumpy, hardly the stuff of dreams. But here Robert is, big Christmas shindig in the pub, nursing a pint and watching while Aaron charms the pants off his date with monosyllabic answers and jokes that are just this side of caustic. Robert doesn’t get it. 

The guy looks spellbound and Robert is torn between hating his guts on principle and commiserating with it. He’s been hit full force by the Aaron Dingle Experience Express and the poor bastard doesn’t even know it. Aaron’s gonna forget about him in two weeks and the lad is gonna be left composing sonnets for the next five months. Robert’s seen it happen enough times to be familiar with the whole process.

“Robert.” Chas says as a way of greeting, sitting down next to him without invitation.

“What?” Robert asks, probably more forcefully than strictly warranted.

“You know I’ve never been your biggest fan.” Chas says, and yeah, that’s probably the understatement of the century. “But over the past six years you’ve grown on me. Like mold. Or a nasty rash-”

“Your point?” Robert asks, rolling his eyes. Knowing Chas, this little speech could go on for anything between five minutes and half an hour. 

“My point is that while it’s true that Aaron isn’t the most perceptive bloke around, he’s gonna notice you mooning over him eventually.” She replies with an amused glint in her eye. “You might want to do something about it before then.”  
“I’m not mooning over anyone.” Robert says, going for nonchalant and landing between sullen and petulant.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.” Chas says with a knowing look. Robert has never hated her more than in this specific moment in time.

It’s not even that Robert is mad she’s figured it out, it’s more that he knows he’s running out of time and it’s making him anxious. It’s rapidly approaching that moment of this whole debacle where he needs to either let Aaron go or actually go and do something about this. 

From the other side of the pub, Aaron laughs. 

Well then. That clinches it.

Robert gets up, and hurries out of the pub. 

He’s basically at his door when he realizes Aaron is running behind him.  
“Rob! Robert!” Aaron calls and Robert turns to look at him.  

He’s wearing a pair of jeans Robert’s pretty sure he’s been wearing for the past week straight, a black shirt that’s definitely a size too big, and a hoodie that has a hole in one of the sleeves. He’s also wearing a three hundred pounds coat Robert passed off as an early Christmas present. 

He’s the most beautiful man Robert’s ever seen.

And he’s not even a little bit winded by the run, the bastard.

“What?” Robert asks, more to shake himself out of his thoughts than anything else.

“You bolted out of the pub. Are you okay?” Aaron asks, following Robert inside like he lives there.

Robert glances at Aaron’s brown sweater discarded on one of his dining chairs, Aaron’s magazine that he gets delivered to Robert’s house because the postman is apparently incapable of finding the Woolie, and Aaron’s favorite mug resting on the coffee table from where he took his tea this morning. 

Point taken.

“Sure.” Robert replies.

He’s made his decision, but actually having Aaron in front of him is making his resolve waver. He can feel something like dread or anticipation mounting inside him and he can’t quite distinguish which one it is. That’s what always happens when Aaron’s around though. Aaron makes Robert stupid. So stupid that he’s frankly past the point of caring.

“Robert, you can talk to me. You know that, right?” Aaron asks, putting a concerned hand on Robert’s shoulder. He’s looking at Robert and he’s so sincere it makes Robert’s head spin and his heart hurt. 

“I know.” Robert replies. He smiles at Aaron. It’s the soft smile he only gets to see and Robert wonders if he knows. Surely, he must know. He must know that Robert has an Aaron smile, and an Aaron voice, and an Aaron heart. 

Robert had a plan. The plan was to come home and brainstorm how to tell Aaron how he feels through the kind of romantic gesture people only get to experience in movies. It was going to be beautiful, and heartfelt, and grandiose. But the thing is, Aaron has never cared one bit for Robert’s plans. 

Robert’s plans were to stay in Emmerdale just a while to get things sorted with Andy and Vic. Robert’s plans were to never come out to anyone, not even himself, let alone his entire family. Robert’s plans were to only ever use people for his personal gain.

Then Aaron happened.

At least Aaron consistently ruining his plans made Robert good at thinking on his feet. He’s gonna have to improvise. He can do it.

There’s a mistletoe branch taped to the mirror in the hallway. Liv’s idea of a joke about his self-involvement. It had made Aaron laugh so hard he’d actually spat tea all over Robert’s rug.

Robert takes the mistletoe down and turns to face Aaron once again.  
“I can leave you to snog yourself, if you’re busy” Aaron says, laughing at his own terrible joke. Robert groans.

There’s a speech rattling somewhere in Robert’s brain that he’s been rehearsing and improving on ever since he realized Aaron Dingle is the love of his life. It’s about how Aaron is the best person Robert knows, about how he’s the only person who really knows Robert and still cares about him, about how he’s the only person Robert would ever let drive his car, both literally and metaphorically.

“I’m in love with you.”

That’s not it.

Well. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for years.” Robert continues.

“You think?” Aaron asks, voice hoarse. He looks shell-shocked. Robert doesn’t blame him.

“I know.” Robert confirms.

“I-” Aaron begins, but when no more words come out, he closes his mouth.  
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I care about you as a person and as a friend, Aaron. I just wanted to let you know.” Robert says. He smiles at Aaron and if it comes out just a little bit wobbly, well, no one can blame him.

Aaron stalks across the room and for a fleeting moment Robert thinks he’s going to bypass him entirely and run out of the house. Instead, Aaron puts his hands on Robert’s arms and looks at him with his beautiful blue eyes. Robert’s always loved Aaron’s eyes.

“I love you.” Aaron says and it’s the first time Robert’s ever heard him say those words and his heart feels like it’s on fire, like every letter is a match and Aaron’s hands on him are gasoline. “I love you.” Aaron repeats, like it’s a mantra, or a prayer, or a blessing. 

Robert raises his free hand and cups Aaron’s face with it. His skin is warm already, despite the freezing temperature outside. He leans down, slowly at first, waiting for Aaron to pull away. His heart is pounding. Robert raises his other hand, the one still holding the mistletoe above their heads.

“I had a plan, but I think this will have to do.” He whispers into Aaron’s mouth.  
“Good. Your plans usually end up badly.” Aaron replies before cutting the distance between them and kissing Robert.

It’s a sweet kiss. It tastes like beer, snow, and five years of love.

Robert lets the mistletoe drop to the ground and puts his other hand on Aaron’s waist.

**_iv. when we finally kiss good-night how I’ll hate going out in the storm_ **

Aaron’s been back from France for the grand total of two weeks when Adam approaches him about his half-brothers’ new taxi firm. It’s not the job of Aaron’s dreams, ferrying people around the greater Hotten area day in and day out, but the Bartons pay decently and they’re not the worst people he’s ever worked for. He’s never going to be Pete and Ross’ best friend, but Finn is alright most of the time. 

Reminding himself he’s doing this to get enough money together to one day start his own thing with Adam also helps.

Which is why he’s agreed to work on a Friday evening, why he’s agreed to Finn decking out his car in Christmas-y decorations, and why he’s agreed to take this last-minute Leeds run.

He knows he’s made a mistake the second a smarmy guy in fancy suit barges into the backseat, talking loudly on the phone and stopping just long enough to bark an address at him. Aaron can feel the stress headache forming at the edge of his consciousness, but he grits his teeth and thinks about the money. 

“No, they need to honor the contract or walk away. Yes, you can tell them I said that.” The man says into his phone. He’s not yelling, not exactly, but he sounds like he could start at any moment. 

Aaron spares the man a glance from the mirror. His view is obscured by a mistletoe branch hanging from a shiny red ribbon that Finn put in his car that morning, but it’s still a good view, better than expected. The man is tall, taller than Aaron, with long legs just barely fitting in the backseat. He’s blond and haughty and he’s wearing an expensive-looking dark suit. 

He’s not Aaron’s type, not exactly, but well, he’s striking in a “hot dick” sort of way. Aaron’s never claimed to have good taste in men. 

“I’m headed to Lawrence’s stupid Christmas gala. I’m already late thanks to those idiots.” The man continues, spitting out the last word with venom. “Yeah, call me later to let me know.” He says before hanging up.

That’s when it starts snowing.

Aaron and his passenger swear in unison.

Aaron looks at him from the rear-view mirror.

“I’ll give you a hundred quid if you get me to my event before we get snowed into a traffic jam.” The man says.

Aaron raises an eyebrow.

“If you can.” The man continues with a challenging tone. That’s what does it, really.

“Deal.” Aaron grins, pushing his foot on the gas pedal.

It’s stupid. And dangerous. And the most exciting thing that’s happened to Aaron in months. He can feel the thrum of it, of adrenaline and something like attraction flooding his veins. He’s game.

“Business meeting?” Aaron asks nonchalantly, making a sharp and calculated left turn. 

“Charity gala. Same thing, really.” The man replies with a shrug.   
Aaron rolls his eyes.

“Eyes on the road,” the man chides, leaning forward to peek at Aaron’s license on the dashboard, “Aaron.” He continues, saying the name like he’s tasting it. “I’m Robert.”

“Well, Robert, don’t tell me how to drive.” Aaron bites back. 

Robert doesn’t reply, but Aaron sees a flash of white teeth in the mirror.   
“So, what do you do that’s so important you’re awaited at a charity gala, of all things?” Aaron asks. 

“Sales.” Robert replies.

“Boring.” Aaron teases. The idea of being stuck behind a desk every day makes him want to break out in hives, but Robert looks like the kind of man who would thrive in something like that. 

“Yes, ferrying people around is so much better.” Robert says with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Flexible hours, good pay.” Aaron replies.

“Interesting costumers.” Robert says. His tone is teasing, but there’s an edge of something else to it. Aaron’s not embarrassed to admit he’s into it.

“Not as interesting as they think they are.” 

Robert laughs. “I bet you I’m the most interesting passenger you’ve had all day.”  
Aaron’s only fares today were a sleepy old lady and a harried-looking dad with his two daughters, but he’s not about to tell Robert that.

“You don’t even make the top ten.”

“You wound me, Aaron.” Robert says and catches Aaron’s eye in the rear-view mirror. They’re a dark green, illuminated by the passing streetlamps. 

Aaron stops the car. They’ve reached their destination.

By now it’s snowing heavily. Just in time. Aaron half wishes he were a worse driver. 

“Here you go. It’s thirty quid. Plus the hundred for getting you here in record time.” Aaron says, voice rougher than intended.

“You barely got me here in time.” Robert complains, but true to his word he takes out his wallet and hands Aaron three bills. His fingers brush against Aaron’s and they’re warmer than Aaron imagined. “Thanks for the ride, Aaron.” He says, looking into Aaron’s eyes.

“Call me if you need another one.” Aaron replies.

Robert gets out of the car in a flurry of snowflakes and cold air. Aaron doesn’t let himself look at him go. 

He’s just about to start the car again when the passenger’s door is wrenched open and Robert comes barging back in. He closes the door with too much force and turns to look at Aaron. 

There’s snowflakes on his hair and coat, and his cheeks are pink. 

“I need a ride home.” He says. “I think you’ll find I already paid you for it.”

Robert doesn’t wait for an answer before putting his cold hands on either side of Aaron’s face and kissing him.

It’s a bruise of a kiss, cold lips and demanding hands, but with something warm underneath. Something promising. It leaves Aaron wanting so much more.

“Let’s go.” Robert says urgently, putting his safety belt on.

 

**_v. but baby it’s cold outside_ **

Robert hurriedly stuffs keys and cellphone into his coat’s pockets and tears towards the door where Aaron is waiting for him, hand already on the door handle. His head is framed by a halo of stained glass, a branch of mistletoe hanging above it. They are ridiculously late and this time Chas is going to murder them, but Robert still takes a second to look at his husband. In his defense, it’s a mesmerizing view. He’s not going to apologize for getting lost in it.

“Come on, let’s go.” Robert says, when he finally reaches Aaron.

Except, instead of opening the door, Aaron puts his hands on Robert’s coat and does the buttons up for him. Robert lets him. For starters, it’s freezing outside, and it also covers one of the monstrosities that Paddy managed to dig out this year to give them as gifts. If Robert were a less trusting man, he’d say Paddy does it on purpose. 

“There. Wouldn’t want you to get sick.” Aaron says with a playful glint in his eyes, his hands still resting on Robert’s chest. 

They don’t have time for this, for anything, really, but still Robert leans down.   
He’s heard people talk about kissing their loved ones and describing every kiss as being like the first one. It’s not like that with Aaron and Robert’s grateful for it. Every kiss has their full history behind it. All the mistakes, all the heartbreak, all the joy, and all the laughter they’ve shared.  

Kissing Aaron is Robert’s favorite thing in the world.


	5. the universe I'm helpless in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts AU.

Robert weaves easily through the throng of Ravenclaw students, by now in his seventh year a seasoned pro at circumventing the huddled masses of first years littering the corridors. It seems a lifetime ago he was one of them, scared and uncertain, following the Slytherin prefect like a shadow.

As it is, he’s enjoying watching Holly Barton, one of the current Ravenclaw prefects, trying to wrangle some of the first years into a neat line. She’s failing, badly. He passes her over with a nod, biting into an apple he made Victoria swipe from the kitchen that morning, Holly shoots him a nasty look. He smirks at her.

Robert costed their house twenty points during their joint double Potions class this morning so he can’t really blame her. In his defense, Holly had been distracted and that’s on her. He doesn’t dislike Holly, not really, she’s probably his favorite Barton, but even then, there’s not much competition. Still, they’re playing against Ravenclaw next Sunday and a little preemptive psychological warfare never hurt anybody. If the Ravenclaw team wants to try and make him pay for it, well, best of luck to them.

Robert reaches the grounds and keeps walking past a group of giggling girls, nodding a greeting to Leyla, the only Slytherin there, and ignoring everyone else. He’s not antisocial, no matter what Victoria and his dad say. There’s a reason why most Slytherins like to keep to themselves, reasons that Victoria, their dad’s pride and joy in her yellow and black Hufflepuff robes, could never fully understand. People assume a Slytherin will walk on anyone to get what they want – it’s not a wrong assumption, but what they don’t understand is that Slytherins will always protect their own.

Robert still remembers with a pang of reflexive anxiety the day he was sorted into Slytherin, how sure he was his dad was going to kill him. Jack Sugden had only ever found two Hogwarts houses acceptable. Ravenclaw, where he’d spent his school years, and Hufflepuff, the house of hard workers. Gryffindors were rash and pigheaded fools. As for Slytherins… the less said about them the better.

But the other Slytherins had welcomed him. He isn’t an outcast here. No one compares him to his father or his brother or his sister.

In a way being sorted into Slytherin has also given Robert a sick sense of accomplishment. He is the first Sugden ever sorted there. Slytherin is  _his_  in a way nothing else is. In a way he doesn’t have to share with anyone. Especially not with Andy, a muggle, and still, inexplicably, Jack’s favorite son.

Well, it’s not the  _only_  thing.

A gust of wind ruffles Robert’s hair making him snap out of his thoughts. It’s a warm day, not warm enough that the grounds are swarming with students, but enough that walking outside is almost pleasant. It’s been raining for weeks now, so the sun peeking out from under heavy rainclouds feels like an earned reprieve.

He keeps walking until he can’t hear the other students’ voices anymore, until he reaches the point where the trees start getting denser and the Forbidden Forest meets the Great Lake. There, past the first couple rows of trees is a clearing. It’s not far enough into the forest to be dangerous, but just enough that most students don’t want to go in to avoid getting in trouble.

Aaron’s lying on the green grass, his eyes closed, sunlight warming his face, his red and gold tie more than already halfway off. There’s bits of parchment strewn around him, the paper covered in Aaron’s huge and messy handwriting. He’s lying still, almost like he’s sleeping, but Robert can tell he’s awake and he knows Robert’s there.

“You’re late.” Aaron says without even opening his eyes. “I haven’t got the time to wait around for you indefinitely.” He continues with fake annoyance.

There was a time, around Robert’s fifth year and Aaron’s fourth, when he thought Aaron just really despised him. He doesn’t think that anymore.

Robert gets closer to Aaron, takes his bag off, and then without warning, drops on him, chest to chest. Aaron lets out a breath and a cough, and Robert’s grinning, but Aaron can’t see it because his eyes are still stubbornly closed.

“Sorry, Holly Barton tried to barricade the corridor using the first years as human furniture.” Robert says.

To this, Aaron finally cracks open an eye. “One of these days someone is going to hex you and you’ll deserve it.” Safe to say he probably heard about the Potions incident.

“Will you sit at my bedside in mourning of my youthful good looks?” Robert asks, getting closer to Aaron’s lips. It comes out breathier than intended, almost a whisper by the end.

Aaron’s face is warm from the sun and his eyes are amused. This is Robert’s favorite Aaron. The sun on his face, his clothes damp from lying on the grass, a smile in his eyes just for Robert.

“I’m the one hexing you.” Aaron says, but he still hasn’t shoved Robert off and his lips stay parted while he looks with anticipation at Robert’s.

Robert smiles and kisses Aaron, soft at first, just a press of lips, before Aaron gets annoyed with it and shoves his tongue in Robert’s mouth. It’s not always like this between them, but this is what Robert likes best. Especially when Aaron finally does shove him off, hard enough to topple him and switch their positions. Suddenly Robert’s on the ground, with damp grass tickling the back of his neck and the weight of Aaron’s body on his chest and stomach.

“Are you coming to the Slytherin and Ravenclaw match on Sunday?” Robert asks, one of his hands resting comfortably in the space where Aaron’s neck meets his shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m cheering for my best mate’s sister.” Aaron replies, his serious face betrayed by the grin threatening to break from his lips.

Robert wants to protest, but before he can, Aaron’s mouth is on his again, effectively silencing him.

“You taste like apples.” Aaron says with a grimace. Robert can’t help but laugh at that.

“I ate one. You should try it sometimes.” Robert says, blindingly looking for the bag he dropped earlier. When he finally finds it, he starts rummaging through it, Aaron looking at him amused.

“If you take a bloody apple out of your bag I’m dumping ya.” Aaron says. This time it’s Robert’s turn to make a face as he takes a chocolate frog out of his bag and tosses it to Aaron.

“I’m not an idiot.” Robert says as Aaron unwraps it.

“Could have fooled me.” Aaron replies, popping the whole thing into his mouth. Robert chooses this specific moment to shove him, playfully but hard, off of him.

“Oi!” Aaron protests once he manages to swallow the chocolate.

Robert ignores him and lies back down, resting his head on his hands and closing his eyes. He can feel Aaron settle next to him, their bodies touching.

“What card did you get?” Robert asks idly, his foot tapping gently against Aaron’s ankle.

“Didn’t even look at it.” Aaron replies and Robert grins.

“You could give it to Finn Barton then, I hear he collects them.” Robert says and he laughs, Aaron right behind him, both of them remembering the time Aaron had been intensely relieved to find out that when Finn had invited him to look at his chocolate frogs card collection he had meant just that. Robert still maintains that despite there being an actual card collection, Finn had been trying to flirt with Aaron.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep it. It was a good chocolate frog.” Aaron says, resting his head on Robert’s shoulder. Robert’s arm reflexively goes to hold Aaron.

It’s peaceful and soothing, something neither one of them has had enough of lately, or ever.

Of course, that’s when it starts raining.

The first drop is cold and huge and it hits Robert square in the left eye.

A few seconds later both Robert and Aaron are scrambling up, both gathering as many papers as possible and shoving them into Aaron’s bag. Robert is cursing Aaron’s messiness, and Aaron is cursing Robert.

Aaron takes his wand out and grinds out a “ _Protego totalum_!” at his bag, trying to avoid it getting soaked, but to no avail.

“That’s not what that spell’s for!” Robert shouts under what is now the roaring sound of pouring rain. The rain is flattening his hair and his robes are quickly getting soaked, his bag feeling waterlogged already. If he loses his Charms essay because of it he’s gonna make Aaron come with him to the library while he writes it for the second time.

“You could always help, you know!” Aaron shouts, already legging it for the castle.

Robert’s curse is lost in the wind.

They run, it’s not that far, but still when they finally do get inside they’re dripping water on the pristine corridor floor.

Robert’s catching his breath, but Aaron’s not even winded. Aaron keeps telling him that Quidditch practice is not an actual workout and as of now Robert might be inclined to believe him.

Robert looks at Aaron, his hair flat on his head, water dripping down his cheeks, a few drops trapped between his dark lashes. He’s beautiful in a way Robert may never be able to vocalize, like a heavy something lodged in his chest fluttering its wings every time Aaron walks into a room. Robert smiles because he’s cold and dripping wet and happy, so happy he doesn’t really know what to do with it. And it’s because of Aaron. Aaron’s smile, and his eyes, and the way his hands hold Robert like he’s precious.

“I love you.” Robert says, he’s known it for a while and wanted to wait for the right moment, but every moment with Aaron is right. They’re surrounded by a world of magic, and all Robert can focus on, has ever been able to focus on ever since they met, is Aaron. Aaron is a different kind of magic altogether.

There’s a flutter of anxiety moving from Robert’s stomach to his trembling hands. He’s cold and too warm and the room seems to be shrinking around him. He’s never said it to anyone, not out loud, it’s his first and it’s Aaron’s, it was always going to be Aaron’s, even if Aaron doesn’t feel the same.

But then Aaron smiles, big and open, and time stops.

“I love you too.” Aaron says and his smile is blinding and beautiful and it reminds Robert of the first time he saw the castle, illuminated by the moon and by a myriad of candles. It’s overwhelming in the best way, the way that makes him want to never move again instead of running away.

This time Aaron kisses him first, his cold and wet hands on Robert’s neck, in his hair, on his shoulders. Still, Aaron is warm and solid and real, his body flush against Robert’s. And they should move, anyone could come in at any time and he’s not sure either one of them would notice, but they don’t.

They stand still, holding each other close and swaying, just for a moment.

 


	6. I will love to see that day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowledgeable local/tourist au.

Aaron’s lived in Rome his whole life. A life lived at the edges of the bar his family owns, tucked away in a corner of Garbatella, in the  _vicoli_  of Testaccio and Trastevere, between the sunny ruins of the  _Colosseo_  and the  _Fori Imperiali_. Between the ancient and the destitute.

A city almost three thousand years old and sometimes even just breathing in it feels like sinking in a quicksand of limestone and smog.

He should leave.

-

Aaron’s in  _Piazza di Spagna_  when it happens. Between wearing all black despite the fact that it’s about seven thousand degrees, the fact that he’s very late meeting his friends, and the throng of tourists everywhere, he’s not in the best of moods.

That’s why when a man stops him, he’s very tempted to ignore him and keep walking.

Then he looks at him. The man’s British, with an accent Aaron can’t quite place, with blond hair and green eyes. He’s not Aaron’s type, not really, but there’s something about him that makes Aaron stop in his tracks.

“What?” Aaron asks, maybe a little bit more forcefully than strictly necessary. The man doesn’t even blink.

“I said, do you know how to get to  _Piazza Venezia_?” He asks, apparently again, his accent mangling the Italian words beyond almost all recognition.

Aaron nods. “Just get back to the main road there and go right. Can’t miss it.”

“Are you sure?” The man asks again, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He’s wearing jeans, a shirt with rolled up sleeves, and he’s carrying a suit jacket on his arm, none of the stuff tourists usually wear, which is probably also why he’s sweaty and irritated.

“No, I’ve lived here my whole life and don’t know where Piazza Venezia is.” Aaron deadpans, deliberately pronouncing  _Piazza Venezia_  in the correct way even though it throws off his English pronunciation.

“You’re the third person I asked and they’ve all given me different directions.” The man huffs out.

“You’ve either asked other tourists or idiots.” Aaron replies, taking his phone out of his jeans. He fires off a quick text and brings his attention back to the guy. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

“Really?” The man asks, a note of skepticism in his voice.

“Really.” Aaron replies. “Now it’s a matter of principle.”

“Okay, thanks -”

“Aaron.”

“I’m Robert.”

-

They walk towards Piazza Venezia, careful to stay on the side of the road where there’s shade. Once back on  _Via del Corso_  Aaron could have just pointed out at the  _Vittoriano_  in the distance, guiding every lost tourist back to  _Piazza Venezia_ , but well, as he said, it’s a matter of principle now.

“So, you live ‘round here?” Robert asks.

“Do I look like I rob banks for a living?”

Robert’s eyes dart to Aaron, quick at first, then slowly dragging over his body. It shouldn’t send a little thrill down Aaron’s spine but it does anyway.

“Honest opinion?” Robert asks, fake sincerity dripping from his voice.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “You know, I could just strand you in one of these little side-streets, you’d never find your way out.”

-

“There you go. The  _Vittoriano_. Have fun.” Aaron says, as soon as they’re just outside the gates.

“I’m not going in.” Robert replies, bringing a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and he looks up at the marble monument.

“Then why are we here?” Aaron asks.

Robert shrugs. “I was here on a business trip, but I ended up finishing early. I’m leaving tomorrow morning and I’ve already seen the Colosseum and the Spanish steps, this seemed like the next logical step.”

“No, it’s not.” Aaron says.

“Okay then, what now, Italian Yoda?” Robert asks.

Aaron snorts. “Offer me lunch and find out.”

Robert laughs. “There’s a restaurant on the other side of the road, we could go there.”

“Nah, we’re not eating over-priced garbage, follow me.” Aaron replies, turning back and walking in the opposite direction.

-

“Really?” Robert asks, eyeing the little  _pizzeria al taglio_  in  _Largo Argentina_  like it’s personally offending him. For all Aaron knows maybe it is. It’s still definitely over-priced by Aaron’s standards, but at least it’s good food.

“Really.” He replies, walking in.

He orders a little bit of everything, the woman behind the counter putting all the pizza slices on a paper tray while he grabs two sodas from the fridge. He lets Robert pay for it.

They sit down on one of the marble benches right there on  _Largo Argentina_ , their lunch between them. They’re facing the ruins and Robert looks enthralled by them.

“Roman history buff?” Aaron asks before sinking his teeth into a slice of  _pizza margherita_.

“Something like that.” Robert replies. “Why are there so many cats here?”

“Cat colony.” Aaron replies, nodding towards the ruins and looking at a cat stretching lazily to the tourists’ many ‘oooh’s and ‘awww’s.

“Not a cat fan?” Robert asks.

“They’re alright. More of a dog lover, me.” Aaron replies, shrugging.

-

“I just hid him in my room for a week.” Aaron says, between bouts of laughter.

“And your family didn’t notice?” Robert asks.

“They just thought I was sneaking my boyfriend in.” Aaron replies.

“Please tell me you have pictures.” Robert says.

“Of the dog or of the boyfriends?”

“Both.” Robert replied.

“And you? Any pictures of dogs or girlfriends?” Aaron asks.

“No pictures of dogs, girlfriends, or boyfriends, sorry.” Robert says, flirts, really.

“Don’t be.” Aaron flirts back.

-

“What now?” Robert asks, getting up to dispose of their paper tray and empty soda cans.

“You’ll see.” Aaron replies, getting up and stalking towards  _Via Arenula_.

-

“What?” Aaron asks, looking at Robert who’s looking at Aaron’s car but not moving to climb in.

“Just considering whether I should get into a car in a foreign country with a near stranger.” Robert replies.

“Bit too late for that, mate.” Aaron says, getting in.

-

“So, what do you do here? Besides playing tour guide to British tourists.” Robert asks.

“Only  _some_  British tourists.” Aaron replies.

“Yes, I’m sure your services are very exclusive.” Robert says, with enough of a straight face that Aaron flips him off. “Tourist board material, you.”

“I’m a mechanic.” Aaron replies, making a very sharp left turn. Robert doesn’t say anything, but he’s been gripping the car’s dashboard the entire time.

“I work sales.”

“Boring.”

“Yes, because being a mechanic is right there in the ranking of thrilling professions with international spy and professional footballer, I forgot.” Robert snarks.

Aaron laughs.

-

“Here we are.” Aaron says, his hands in his jeans pockets for a lack of a better placement.

They’re on top of the  _Gianicolo_  now, where there’s fewer tourists and more locals just enjoying the weather.

“What’s this?” Robert asks, getting closer to the railing. It’s a clear day, which means from there they can see most of the old Roman city center. Robert is looking out, eyes wide, taking it all in.

If Aaron were a more sentimental man, he’d sneak a picture, but he’s not, so he settles from committing Robert’s profile to memory.

“I figured with just a few hours in Rome left this would be the best way to see as much as possible.” Aaron shrugs, feeling suddenly self-conscious in the slight breeze.

“Thank you. This is beautiful.” Robert replies.

They stand there for a while, looking out, arms brushing against each other’s.

-

“So, what now?” Robert asks, climbing back inside the car.

They’ve spent the better part of two hours talking and eating ice cream. By this point Aaron would be ready to get rid of anyone, he could do it easily too. He could just remind Robert that he’s leaving tomorrow morning and he should probably go pack or something.

He doesn’t.

“I’m telling you, I could probably stretch for dinner too.” Robert continues.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

-

“This isn’t what I had in mind.” Robert says, examining a tomato with way more wariness than it warrants.

“Not those ones.” Aaron says, grabbing a handful of cherry tomatoes instead. “And trust me, this is better.”

They’re inside the supermarket and it’s weird.

Domestic.

Nice.

It’s freaking Aaron out a little bit, so he’s refusing to think about it.

“Didn’t take you for the cooking type.” Robert says, bumping into Aaron’s shoulder.

“I’m not.”

“Not keen on food poisoning, mate.” Robert replies, making a face.

Aaron still finds him attractive, fluorescent lights and all. It’s… not ideal.

“I can cook  _pasta_ , Robert.”

-

Turns out, Aaron can’t cook pasta that well.

-

“It wasn’t that bad.” Robert says.

It’s weird, Robert being in his kitchen. It almost feels like a movie spilled into his real life. There’s the wall where his and all his cousins’ heights have been measured for years. And here’s this British man Aaron met a few hours ago. Over there, on the fridge, are the magnets he brought back from his holiday in Greece, and over here are a pair of green eyes.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve never had proper Italian pasta before.” Aaron replies.

“I’ll have you know I have been to Italy before. I went to Milan for a business trip a while ago.” Robert says.

“If you say Milan is better than Rome you can leave.”

“It’s a nice city!” Robert protests.

“Out.”

-

They migrate into Aaron’s room because it’s inevitable and because they’ve both been waiting for it.

It’s quiet now, the air shifting around them, Aaron’s life story leaking from the walls and shelves in the room.

The  _A.S. Roma_  poster still up from when they won the last championship, DVDs, CDs and magazines stacked haphazardly on every available surface, pictures stuck to the walls with tape and pins, friends, family, and exes frozen in time.

They all seem to be watching Robert, waiting with baited breath for him to judge them, but Robert isn’t looking at all.

His eyes are on Aaron.

Robert cradles Aaron’s face as they kiss, as they crash into each other, a flurry of hands and clothes and  _want_.

They fall on the bed, half naked already, speaking two languages between them, and then a new one altogether.

Aaron falls asleep tangled into Robert, lulled by the whirring of the fan and Robert’s hand into his hair.

-

It’s still dark out when Robert kisses him awake.

“I have to go.” Robert says, quietly.

“I’ll take you.” Aaron replies, happy Robert can’t see his face in the dark.

“You don’t have to, I’ll take a taxi.” Robert says.

“I’ll take you.” Aaron says again, getting up.

-

They’re outside the airport and it’s too early for it to be hot already, but Rome is giving it her best effort.

Aaron is wearing the shirt Robert had been wearing the day before, while Robert is leaving with Aaron’s black t-shirt on. It was an accident due to them getting dressed in the dark, but neither one of them has mentioned it yet. Aaron isn’t going to.

“You should visit.” Robert says, he’s still sitting into Aaron’s car, one of his hands is on Aaron’s.

“I don’t even know where you live.” Aaron replies.

“I saved my number in your phone earlier.” Robert says. He turns to look at Aaron, and gently, quietly, leans in and kisses him. “Text me, I mean it.”

“I will.” Aaron replies.

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

-

Aaron watches Robert walk away.


	7. against all things thrown our way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmates au. With a twist.

Aaron’s mark has been fading for the past ten years.

It’s an ugly thing, all jagged lines and broken angles, it was even uglier back in the day, blood red, bright and loud against his skin.

Now that it’s fading to black, he keeps a wrist cuff over it.

Now that it’s fading to black he misses it, blood red, bright and loud. Alive.

-

Robert comes into Aaron’s life on a Thursday.

Here comes the prodigal son.

Or.

Here comes the antichrist.

Depending on who you ask.

-

He finds Victoria crying outside her house. She’s sobbing, big, fat tears streaking her face, calling for help.

She can barely manage to say “Andy and Robert” before he’s running inside. Andy punching Robert, over and over, Robert’s face a mess of blood.

He hauls Andy away, barely, clinging onto him with all his weight.

“Why don’t you go back to your perfect little life and leave us alone!” Andy spits out, more venom than words.

That’s when Aaron sees it.

A plaster, one of those big white ones, on Robert’s wrist, on Robert’s mark.

Suddenly he can’t breathe, his head and hands full of white noise.

He runs out.

-

“Thanks for helping out.” Robert says, sitting down next to him on the bar. His face is still a galaxy of bruises, but he’s stopped limping, so Aaron guesses he’s on the mend.

“Wasn’t helping you.” Aaron replies, hiding behind his beer. He pointedly doesn’t look at Robert. Especially not his wrist.

-

He can see other people’s marks, it’s fine.

He sees Gabby look at Jacob and Liv’s marks sometimes. As if she could concentrate hard enough to change them and make one of them match hers. He used to do that too with Adam sometimes, when he was young and didn’t know better.

He sees her mom’s bright red one, the way she sneaks a glance at the wrist of every man who comes into the pub. He used to do that too when he was younger, despite feeling like he knew better.

He sees Adam and Victoria’s marks, the way they’ll absent-mindedly touch each other’s sometimes when they’re sitting together. He used to do that with Jackson sometimes, when he should have known better.

He sees Diane’s jet-black mark, the way she holds Doug’s hand, her wrist touching his, the way she seems light and happy, despite everything. He knows he’ll never get that, he knows better.

It’s the void where a mark should be that sets him off. A plaster, a bracelet, a wrist cuff other than his own is enough.

The absence of what should be is enough.

-

Every night since the fight, he’s dreamt about the accident.

-

“What’s with your brother?” Aaron asks.

To Victoria’s credit, she doesn’t pretend to not know what he means. “He’s back in Emmerdale for a while.”

“Why?” Aaron asks again, against his better instincts.

“His wife annulled their marriage, apparently she found her soulmate and you know how that is.” Victoria replies. She’s chopping carrots, but there’s a stiffness to it that isn’t usually there.

“Vic.” He says.

“I tried to ask but he wouldn’t answer me. He had a red mark when he left at nineteen, then one day a few years later, the plaster was there.” Victoria replies.

-

It’s like picking a scab. The more he tries to ignore the itching, the more he finds himself drawn to Robert.

Falling into bed feels inevitable.

What’s surprising is how good the falling feels.

They click, immediately, physically, like they’ve both been waiting for it. Maybe they have, Aaron doesn’t know, doesn’t want to over-think it, afraid if he does he might ruin it.

-

“How long?” Robert asks, he’s tracing a light pattern on Aaron’s chest with his finger. Aaron never told him to, but whenever they do this – and they do this often – Robert keeps his hidden wrist out of sight.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Aaron replies, batting Robert’s hand away. Robert places his hand firmly on Aaron’s chest.

“How long, Aaron?”

“Nine years, seven months and three days.”

-

Aaron doesn’t really ask about Robert’s mark or what it means, but he thinks it’s fitting Robert still covers it with a plaster.

Robert himself is some kind of perpetually open wound.

-

Gradually, they start venturing outside.

It makes Aaron feel guilty, as if he’s doing something he shouldn’t do, cheating on Jackson with Robert, which is absurd. Jackson’s dead. Robert’s not.

Not necessarily for lack of trying on Robert’s part.

“Stop trying to wind Andy up.” Aaron says, sliding a pint towards Robert.

They’re in a pub in Manchester, allegedly to have a weekend away, but actually so Aaron can keep an eye on Robert and make sure he doesn’t get murdered by Andy. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.

Robert leans over to place a kiss on Aaron’s mouth.

It does come with some great perks though.

“Andy should stop being Andy then.” Robert replies, the sort of smirk on his face that makes Aaron want to shove him against the wall.

“Your funeral, mate.” Aaron says.

Robert rolls his eyes, but drops a hand on Aaron’s thigh.

Despite the warm weather, Robert’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

-

Liv trusts Robert about as far as she can throw him. Chas even less.

And yet, Robert finds a way to burrow himself into Aaron’s life.

One day Robert is just  _there_ , enmeshed in the fabric of Aaron’s life, too entangled to ever remove.

Wherever Aaron looks, Robert is helping Liv with her algebra, enduring hours of shopping with Chas, trading witty remarks with Charity.

It feels like healing, sometimes.

-

“We had one year together.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“Don’t be pedantic, we’re having a moment.”

“You know, if you ever want to talk…”

“I know.”

-

“Ugh, stop being so happy and in love in my general presence, please.” Charity says as soon as he walks through the door.

“Don’t listen to her, babe, she’s just jealous.” Chas replies, making a face at Charity and walking around the bar to hug Aaron.

He flips Charity off where Chas can’t see it, but there’s no real heat to it.

Aaron Dingle is happy, and despite his best efforts, in love.

-

“I have to go away for a few days.” Robert says one day, out of the blue. They’re having dinner together, like they have been doing almost every night for a couple of months now. “A work thing. But I’ll be back next Thursday.”

“Okay.” Aaron replies, going back to his pasta.

He doesn’t think much of it.

-

Robert leaves early on a Monday morning, while Aaron is still half asleep.

If he hadn’t been, he would have noticed Robert acting weird. Distant. Worried.

He didn’t.

-

It’s Thursday and it’s dark and it’s pouring down when Robert finally comes back.

“Aaron, we need to talk.” Robert says, and it should be a warning sign, but Aaron barely hears him.

Aaron crashes into Robert, dragging him towards the bedroom, kissing every inch of skin he can find. They’ve been apart three days and Aaron feels like he’s finally breathing again after almost drowning.

Robert clings onto him the entire time.

-

Thunder wakes Aaron up. Robert is still blissfully sleeping beside him, peaceful, finally.

Aaron looks at Robert’s wrist, driven half by something morbid, half by something hopeful. It’s okay, at first, he looks at Robert’s wrist and that’s just what he sees, Robert’s wrist.

He touches it, lightly, or maybe not, because some of the plaster comes off.

The first thing Aaron notices in the dim light of the room is how pretty Robert’s mark is. It’s a swirling pattern, all soft lines. Nothing at all like Robert.

There’s something odd about it though that Aaron can’t quite place.

Then, suddenly, lightening fills the room and for a fraction of a second Aaron sees the mark in it’s color. It’s pink. Not blood red, not black, or fading to black. It’s pink.

It’s not possible.

He turns the lights on.

He must be going insane.

The mark is still pink against Robert’s skin.

“Aaron what’s wrong?” Robert asks, disturbed by the light.

All Aaron can do is clutch Robert’s wrist.

-

It doesn’t make sense.

Marks are red, blood red, bright and loud while your soulmate is alive.

Aaron knows that because he remembers Jackson’s blood on his hands, his mark indistinguishable under it. He remembers thinking that as long as the mark was still bright red it meant Jackson was still alive and his.

He remembers the exact moment Jackson died because suddenly his mark looked darker, so much darker, not a drop of blood red in sight.

He remembers one of the paramedics covering Jackson’s body with a white sheet and then carefully, almost tenderly, covering his mark with a big white plaster.

He remembers looking at his mark the day before, jet-black, almost black enough to stop covering it up, on the ten-year ceremony.

-

“What is this, Robert?” Aaron asks, jumping out of bed as if it were electrified.

“It’s not what you think.” Robert says, panic rising in his voice.

“What is it?” Aaron asks again, bile in the back of his throat.

“It’s not what you think!”

“What does it mean? Why is it like that? Did you lie? Are they alive? Do you have a soulmate somewhere in the world? Why is it like that?” Aaron asks, panicked.

“It’s not-” Robert tries again, but Aaron cuts him off.

“Answer me!” He screams, loud enough to scratch his throat.

Robert is crying already, on the verge of sobbing, exposed. A part of Aaron wants to feel sad for him, most of Aaron is too shocked to even feel anything at all.

“It’s fake. It’s not real.”

-

“I don’t have a mark. I never had one.” Robert says. He’s dressed now, sitting on the foot of the bed, head in his hands. He’s not looking at Aaron.

“No, that’s impossible.” Aaron says, but even as the words leave his mouth he knows he’s wrong. There are people without marks. They’re rare, and they certainly don’t advertise themselves, but they exist.

Robert is one of them.

-

“I just never got one. Fifteen came and went and it didn’t appear. I was in Spain at the time and I just. I had it done. I was tired of people looking at me like a freak.”

-

“My father knew. I had everyone else fooled, but he knew. When he sent me away for good he said ‘I should have known you were soulless.’”

-

“It started fading a few years ago, I tried to hide it, but when it became too noticeable I had to cover it up.” Robert says. The more he talks the more matter-of-factly he sounds.

“Is that why you left?” Aaron asks. Robert nods.

“I went to see an expert. I thought maybe I could tattoo on top of it in black. Reveal it when the time came.” Robert continues.

“Pretend it was the ten-year anniversary of your soulmate’s death.”

“Yes.” Robert replies, Aaron barely registers the shame in his voice. “The first tattoo was botched, it went too deep, it’s all scar tissue now. He couldn’t tattoo over it. I wanted to tell you.”

“Get out.” Aaron says, angry and sad and tired, too tired.

“Aaron, I-”

“Robert, please.” Aaron pleads.

“I’m sorry.”

Robert leaves.

-

Robert leaves for good.

-

No one asks. Aaron tells no one.

-

Aaron sees a young Robert sometimes in his dreams.

Fifteen and hopeful, looking at his own wrist until midnight on the day before his sixteenth birthday. Sixteen and scared, in a dimly lit illegal tattoo parlor, the red ink mixing with his blood. Nineteen and angry, turned away by his own father like a monster.

In the good dreams, he and Robert meet before all the hurt and the pain and they become friends.

In the nightmares, Robert’s soulmate mark is an ugly thing, all jagged lines and broken angles, blood red, bright and loud, but when he looks at his own, he can’t find it anymore.

-

Sometimes Aaron looks at Liv, at Victoria, at Chas, even at Andy, and sees the Robert-shaped hole in his life. It hurts, but he knows he can survive this.

-

The ten-year ceremony comes and goes. The first time he catches his naked wrist in the corner of his eyes he breaks down and cries.

-

He lets Jackson go. Finally. For good.

-

It’s three am and Aaron’s been banging on the door of this anonymous flat in Manchester for five straight minutes. Someone is gonna call the cops on him. He doesn’t care.

“Aaron? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Robert asks as soon as he sees him.

Robert looks awful. He’s the best thing Aaron’s ever seen.

“Can I come in?” Aaron asks, but before Robert can even answer, he shoulders past him and into the apartment.

“I love you.” Aaron says.

“Don’t.” Robert says, something open and wounded in his voice.

“Listen to me. I survived. I survived Jackson’s death. I survived my childhood. I survived you leaving. But I don’t want to survive anymore.” Aaron says. He takes Robert’s hand. The plaster is there again, a stark white against Robert’s skin. Aaron strokes the skin around it, softly. “I want to live. With you. I  _choose_  you. Every day, I choose you.”

“I love you, too.” Robert says and it’s all Aaron needs to hear.

He kisses Robert and it’s a release, a declaration, a downpour.

-

There’s a ballpoint pen on Robert’s nightstand. Aaron takes it, it’s blue.

Robert’s asleep.

He doesn’t wake up while Aaron draws something new on his other wrist and then draws the same on his.


	8. morning will come and I'll do what's right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amnesia au. This time it's Aaron's turn.

Robert wakes up to Aaron, half naked, looking around the room.

“Can I help you?” He asks, startling Aaron, who shoots him a withering look.

“Looking for my phone.” Aaron says, drily.

“Probably still in your jeans.” Robert replies with a smirk at the memories of the night before.

Aaron had been complaining about a headache ever since coming back from work, but they had the house to themselves for the first time in ages, and well. Their night had started long before they had even reached the bedroom. In the foyer to be exact. Aaron’s jeans, and his phone, are probably still somewhere in middle of the living room.

They need to clear the mess up before Liv comes back from Gabby’s and Seb from Vic’s. But that’s for later. They still have time.

“You sure I can’t tempt you to get back in bed?” Robert asks, bringing his hands behind his head, an eyebrow raised.

Aaron gives him an appraising look, his eyes roaming the length of Robert’s body, like it’s the first time he’s seeing it. It still sends a thrill through Robert’s spine. He doubts there’s ever gonna be a time when it won’t.

“Nah, mate, you’re alright.” Aaron says, like it pains him to.

Robert snorts and rolls out of bed. “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast while you look for your phone.”

-

They go downstairs and Aaron looks appreciatively at the kitchen. Robert suppresses a laugh. So that’s what Aaron’s playing at.

“Nice place.” Aaron says, looking around.

“Yeah, it’s my husband’s.” Robert says, taking out everything he needs for breakfast from the fridge.

“You the trophy wife or something?” Aaron asks, a weird edge to his voice that Robert can’t quite decipher. He’s getting closer to Robert now, slow and purposeful.

“Something like that.” Robert replies, taking the pan off the stove just in case.

It turns out to be a smart choice, because before he even realizes what’s happening, Aaron is crowding his personal space, his hands finding their way on Robert’s sides, Aaron’s mouth on his.

“What was your name again?” Aaron asks, a whisper into Robert’s mouth.

“Robert.” Robert replies with a laugh.

“I’m Aaron.” Aaron replies, his hands now dangerously low on Robert’s hips.

“Yes, I remember that.” Robert says. “Now go, get your phone while I make breakfast, we can continue this later.”

Aaron huffs, but complies, half-heartedly taking his hands off of Robert. It makes Robert shiver, a mix of the loss of contact with Aaron’s warm skin and anticipation.

Robert’s almost about to say ‘screw breakfast, let’s go back upstairs’ when Aaron storms into the kitchen, clutching his phone.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” He asks, waving his phone in front of Robert’s eyes.

Robert takes it from Aaron’s hands and looks at it. There’s no messages, no missed calls. It looks like Aaron’s phone always does, a picture of them, Liv and Seb as background.

“What’s wrong?” Robert asks. He almost wants to ask if they’re still roleplaying, but Aaron’s eyes are filled with panic, real and chilling.

“Why is there a picture of you on my phone? Who are these kids?” Aaron asks, snatching his phone back from Robert’s hands. “Is this supposed to be a joke? Did Adam put you up to this?” He continues, backing away from Robert and looking around, as if he’s expecting Adam to jump out of one of the cabinets.

“Aaron, come on You’re scaring me, here.” Robert says, trying to keep his voice even.

“Where am I?” Aaron asks. He’s looking at Robert like Robert might hurt him and it almost makes Robert recoil.

“The Mill, in Emmerdale, our home.” Robert replies. His brain is trying to process a thousand thoughts a minute.

“I thought this was your husband’s house.” Aaron says, but already as he says he Robert can see the pieces are starting to connect.

That’s when Aaron sees it. Their wedding picture on the mantelpiece. The two of them in their wedding suits, wedding rings on display, Robert kissing Aaron’s cheek.

-

Aaron refuses to go anywhere with Robert, much less a hospital. It’s not until Chas gets there that he even manages to sit down.

-

They’re in the waiting room. Chas’ hand is on Robert’s knee stopping him from jumping up the chair every time a doctor or a nurse passes through. It’s been hours.

-

“So, Robert, you were with Aaron last night, correct?” Aaron’s doctor asks him.

“Yes.” Robert replies. He’s been staring at Aaron ever since they’ve let him into his room. Aaron’s looking anywhere but at him.

“Did Aaron hit his head yesterday, that you know?” She asks.

“No, at least not while we were together. But he did come back from work yesterday complaining about a headache.” Robert says. He takes an executive decision and walks to Aaron’s bed. He sits down.

Aaron doesn’t look at him, but at least he doesn’t flinch away.

“Did he have any alcohol?” The doctor asks, checking her clipboard.

“One beer, with dinner.” Robert replies. It’s weird, talking about Aaron like he’s not here, it makes his stomach hurt.

“Any strenuous physical activities?”

“We had sex.”

“Well, thank you, this is all very useful.” The doctor says, getting up. “We’re going to run a few more tests and let you know, okay?”

Robert nods, and she leaves.

“Next time you want to screw my brains out, maybe not so literally.” Aaron says, his voice acerbic, hiding a layer of worry underneath.

Robert doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

At least he’s still Aaron.

-

Aaron stays in the hospital for three days. The doctors can’t find anything beyond a light concussion. Their best guess is that Aaron hit his head at work and that the wound, left untreated and coupled with alcohol and sex, gave him retrograde amnesia.

There’s nothing to do but wait.

-

Turns out, waiting isn’t Robert’s strong suit.

-

They have the conversation on how they met and how they got married and how they got where they are now on Aaron’s first night home.

Robert sleeps on the couch.

It doesn’t matter, he’s determined.

-

Robert prints out every single picture of Aaron with his family he can find. He scours his old phones, his laptop, Chas and Liv’s phones. Even Aaron’s phone isn’t safe.  

He even manages to find a few pictures from 2014, from their first few nights in various hotels in Yorkshire. He thought he had deleted all of them, but apparently nothing is ever truly deleted if your phone automatically backs things up on the cloud.

It’s weird, seeing them now, holed up in some hotel room, amusing themselves with each other, beer, and a football match on TV. It’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t love Aaron proudly and publicly.

Aaron barely looks at them.

Robert leaves them in the bedroom, just in case.

-

“Where are we?” Aaron asks, once they reach the clearing.

Robert needs a moment to get his breath back before he can answer. Aaron doesn’t even look slightly winded. Once Aaron gets his memories back they’re gonna go running together again, it’s decided.

“Sit down.” Robert says, plopping down on the grass. It’s a little bit greener now it’s summer, there’s even a few flowers littering the ground. It’s still as beautiful as Robert remembers.

He also remembers the oppressive feeling he felt in his chest, like smoke made of concrete in his lungs, while he stalked through these woods the first time. The words burning his throat as they tried to come up, like bile, like acid. Then the softness of Aaron’s eyes, Aaron’s hands. As if nothing would ever sting him again with Aaron by his side.

Aaron sits down. There’s a strange sort of tentativeness in his movements now that Robert doesn’t remember. He can’t figure out if it was there four years ago and he’d missed it, somehow, or if it’s a new thing, brought by the circumstances.

“Why are we here?” Aaron asks. He’s sitting a few inches away from Robert, but they feel like light years.

“This is a special place for us. I almost proposed here.” Robert says.

“Almost?” Aaron asks.

“I’d forgotten the ring in the car.”

“Is that a classic Robert Sugden move?” Aaron asks and Robert’s heart sinks a little bit further down.

“No, not really. You make fun of me for being too uptight.” Robert replies with a sad smile.

“Maybe it’s just dirty talk.” Aaron says with a shrug.

Robert can’t help but laugh.

“Here’s where I first told you I’m bi. You’re the first person I’ve ever told. I thought you’d be the only one.” Robert confesses.

There’s something about being with Aaron in places like this, quiet and isolated, that makes him want to strip himself of all that isn’t the truth. It’s this compulsion to be honest and vulnerable, to make Aaron see him, every facet of him. It’s freeing in a way he’s never thought possible before.

He’s long past the point of expecting Aaron to recoil at the sight.

“And then?” Aaron asks.

Robert tells him.

-

Robert takes him on a tour of the places that are meaningful to them.

They fight a lot.

Robert is pressuring Aaron to remember him. Aaron feels like a failure because he can’t.

Robert tells Aaron he loves him.

Aaron doesn’t say it back.

-

He’s still Aaron, grumpy and loyal and kind to those he loves. He still makes fun of Robert. He takes Liv to school. He gets Seb to sleep when he’s fussy.

They talk a lot, both hoping one of them will say the trigger word that will magically fix it all.

They don’t touch, Robert too afraid that if they do he’ll break.

He’s Aaron but there’s not  _and_  there. There’s no  _AaronandRobert_  or  _RobertandAaron_  it’s just Aaron trying to piece the puzzle of his memory back together, and Robert trying not to lose any more pieces of his heart in the process.

-

They don’t sleep in the same bed. Robert tells himself it’s because he’s trying to give Aaron space. The truth is that he couldn’t bear to share a bed with an Aaron who’s not his husband. It’s been true for a long time.

Still, sometimes, in the afternoons, when Aaron is at work or at the pub, he lies on their bed.

He knows it’s maudlin, even by his standards, but he can’t help himself. He can’t help lie there and imagine that it’s a day like any other, and soon Aaron will walk through the door and their life will continue on the trajectory it was on before the accident.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he must have, because when he opens his eyes again, there’s a dip in the mattress next to him. He turns around and sees a pair of blue eyes staring at him.

“You can stay if you want.” Aaron says, and Robert thinks it’s supposed to sound nonchalant, but he knows Aaron enough to know it’s not.

It hurts, being so close and not feeling close to Aaron, but he stays, because Aaron wants him to, and he knows, in his bones he knows, Aaron would do the same for him.

He launches into a story about himself, before he knew Aaron, before he came back to Emmerdale. He talks about his first disastrous job in London, something he’s never told Aaron before.

Aaron laughs, and for a second the bed feels like home again.

-

“Never saw myself married.” Aaron says, sitting down at the table. There’s studied easiness to how he says it that Robert can’t quite reconcile with Aaron, his Aaron.  

“You saw me and you had to lock this down, clearly.” Robert replies, continuing washing the dishes, trying to wash away the queasiness in his stomach with a joke.

“You’re almost fit, I guess.” Aaron says, with a mocking grin.

“Oi! You married me— twice— so clearly you find me fit enough.” Robert replies, flicking the dish towel at his husband.

-

When they pass by the layby it’s not planned.

Robert stops, he doesn’t really have a plan, he just stops.

“This is where we first kissed.” Robert says, getting out of the car. He leans on the hood, taking in the view, the air tinged golden by the sunset.

It’s not another one of his attempts to get Aaron to remember, not really. He just thinks at least one of them should remember it though. Should pay their respects to the moment that changed their lives forever.

There’s a loss to being the only person who knows this story now, who can still bear witness to how it all began.

“Classy.” Aaron quips, but then something in his face changes.

In a second, he’s on Robert, hands on Robert’s face, lips on Robert’s mouth, his body nestled between Robert’s thighs.

If this were another universe, or a movie, this would be when Aaron remembers.

He doesn’t.

-

They don’t talk about it.

They don’t kiss again.

Every day Aaron doesn’t remember there’s a bigger chance his memories will never come back.

-

“Hey little man.” Aaron says, picking Seb up and cradling him in his arms. Robert had been so tired he hadn’t even heard him fuss, but apparently Aaron had.

It’s pitch black in the living room, Robert lying still on the couch, Aaron standing over Seb’s crib, close enough to touch.

Robert screws his eyes shut.

“Come on, let your dad sleep.” Aaron says, walking upstairs with their son.

Robert waits until he can’t ear Aaron’s footsteps anymore before he breaks down.

The truth is, he’ll always love Aaron, but this is an Aaron who doesn’t love him back, not now, and maybe not ever. Robert doesn’t think this is something he can live with.

He spent so much time denying his feelings for Aaron and now he has to do the same for Aaron’s sake and it’s killing him. It’s poisoning his blood, sucking the air from his lungs, stopping his heart cold.

They’re each other’s vengeful ghosts, their bed a haunted house.

-

Robert wakes up to Aaron calling his name and shaking him awake. It’s still dark outside and his eyes itch from crying himself to sleep.

“What? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Seb?” Robert asks, bolting up.

Aaron holds a picture up to Robert’s eyes, too close and still too dark for Robert to really see it.

“This. This was a hotel in Manchester.” Aaron says, still crouched in front of Robert on the couch. “It was three months from our first kiss and I was too afraid to bring it up, even as a joke.” Aaron continues, his eyes, wide and alert, staring into Robert’s.

Robert takes Aaron’s hand, the one holding onto the picture.

“It was.” Robert says, finally getting a good look at the picture. A grainy picture taken from his phone, both of them in bed, a sheet covering their bodies, cheesy grins on display.

He had deleted it from his phone a couple of weeks later, but now he’s immensely glad it wasn’t lost.

“You remember.” Robert says, voice cracking on the last word, his hand shaking in Aaron’s.

“I remember you, Robert. I remember you.” Aaron says, fervently, like it’s a prayer, or a spell. Like it’s the answer to a question Robert’s been asking for weeks.

They crash into each other, the distance between them reduced to nothing, the first recorded instance of two bodies inhabiting the same space, the laws of physics reserved for others.

They go upstairs, to their bedroom, their bed, their home in each other’s arms.


	9. and words are futile devices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writer and agent AU. All of Robert’s opinions on literature and writing are his own and I don’t condone them. Also, I know nothing about publishing, I’m so sorry.

There’s a leather-bound collection of his father’s novels in one of the drawers of Robert’s desk at work. Expensive, unopened, collecting dust. He’s not even quite sure in which drawer it is anymore. 

It’s a gift from Diane, given to him years ago when he finally got promoted to agent. He had known from seeing the finely decorated box and the unshed tears in Diane’s eyes what it was. He’d told her he’d open it later, in private, but he’d chucked the whole box into the first open drawer as soon as he’d gotten into work.

Jack Sugden is an icon. His novels have been translated in every language Robert can think of, speaking a universal truth many authors try to find in their work, but rarely manage. That’s what his obituary said. 

The fact that he found critical and commercial acclaim only a few short years before his untimely death, after a lifetime spent on a Yorkshire farm, only adds to the legend. 

Robert is his son, and sometimes it feels like that’s all he’ll ever be. He was supposed to follow in Jack’s footsteps, continue writing the great British novels of the twenty-first century. He managed to get one book out, trading on his father’s name.

Robert had been young at the time, too young probably, barely twenty, writing on the heels of his father’s death. He had written a pretty little thing, not a word that was true or worthwhile in it. His last name had been the biggest thing on the cover, bigger than his name and the title. The critics had torn him to shreds, gleefully. 

He hasn’t really written anything since.

He tells himself it’s because he’s too busy with work. Too busy managing people who actually have something to say and the talent to do it, if he’s had too much to drink. 

So, work is fraught, but Robert can deal with fraught. Some would say he thrives on it. 

He likes to think this is why he’s been assigned to work with Aaron Dingle.

-

Aaron Dingle has quickly risen to fame on the back of a brilliant debut novel and in the process has burned through four agents. Robert’s pretty sure he’s seen Graham Foster, who got into publishing after seeing active duty in the military, shed a tear of joy when Chrissie announced she was reassigning him to another author. But then again, his new assignment is Joe Tate, so his relief is probably going to be shot-lived.

Robert likes the challenge. 

He’s read Aaron’s novel and has been blown away by it. There’s something ugly and jagged in it, reminiscent of Chuck Palahniuk and Bret Easton Ellis, but he manages to overcome their faults by anchoring everything in an underlying layer of tenderness. There’s a human core to it, a human heart, pulsating under all the blood and guts. It’s not always evident, sometimes hidden under Aaron’s utilitarian and unembellished language, but it’s what’s drawn Robert in and gripped him tight until the very last page. It’s simply brilliant.

Robert doesn’t trust it, doesn’t trust _him_. It doesn’t help that everything about Aaron seems designed, from his lack of media presence (social or otherwise), to his secretiveness about his upcoming projects.  There’s something scratching at the corner of his mind, something unpleasant, leaving claw marks all over his mental picture of Aaron Dingle. He wants to know what that is.

-

Robert doesn’t know what he was expecting, but this isn’t it.

Aaron’s young, younger than the few pictures of him on the internet led him to believe. He’s also attractive, with intense blue eyes, dark hair, and a broad chest his ratty black hoodie is doing nothing to hide. 

“What?” Aaron asks, his face sour.

“I’m Robert Sugden.” Robert introduces himself. Aaron blinks at him. “Your new agent.” Robert clarifies.

“Sorry mate, I haven’t got anything for you.” Aaron says, not sounding particularly sorry.

Aaron has a deal with the agency where he doesn’t have to show them anything until the deadline. A deadline that has been generously set for next spring. Maybe too generously, if you ask Robert. He doesn’t like going into situations blind, especially not at work. This is why he’s here. 

Robert quirks an eyebrow. “Nice try, _mate_.” He says, shouldering his way past Aaron into the apartment. 

Robert’s been around writers for the best part of his adult life. He’s seen eccentric and he’s seen ascetic. Aaron’s flat however, is something new. It’s… normal. Average. Messier than most, maybe, but fundamentally what one would expect from a man in his mid-twenties. There’s almost no art on the walls and the few books on the shelves are all cheap paperbacks of action novels, the rest of the space is occupied by dozens of indie albums. Robert knows none of the artists featured.

“You done?” Aaron asks, leaning on the now closed door, arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face.

“Do you have a ghostwriter?” Robert asks, in lieu of an answer. “Someone who actually writes the books you put your name on.” Robert continues.

“Is this a wind-up?” Aaron asks, his voice dangerously low.

“So, you’ll have no problem showing me some new material.” Robert concludes with a smirk, moving for the door.

“Sit down.” Aaron barks at him, stopping Robert in his tracks. He sits on the couch.

Aaron leaves and comes back a minute later with his laptop and a journal. The laptop is a cheap one, the journal however, looks expensive. It’s black, leather, and it looks on the verge of exploding, pages and loose sheets of paper held together by an elastic band and a prayer. 

Aaron sits next to Robert on the couch, so close that Robert can smell his laundry detergent.

Aaron starts writing, laptop balancing on his knees and journal opened on the other side of the couch where Robert can’t see it. His fingers fly over the keyboard, stopping only long enough to glance at the journal and then go back. 

Robert’s spent his fair share of time waiting while authors finish writing something at the last minute, usually playing Candy Crush on his phone, but this is different. There’s something happening here and it’s mesmerizing. Aaron writes with an intensity he hasn’t seen in a long time, like if Robert touches him Aaron’s skin will electrocute him.

Eventually Aaron stops, asks for Robert’s email address, and wordlessly sends the whole thing over.

Robert opens his email and starts reading.

“This isn’t from the new book.” Robert says. 

“It’s a scene that didn’t make it past outlining.” Aaron replies, laptop now on the floor, arms crossed across his chest.

Robert can see why it didn’t. It’s a good scene, written in Aaron’s signature sparse style, but it would have broken the flow, interrupted the action awkwardly. 

Robert smiles. 

This is going to be a productive partnership.

-

“I want Graham back.” Aaron says, the following week when he finds Robert back at his door.

“Too late for that. He almost quit the business because of you.” Robert jokes, pushing past Aaron to get inside.

“You’re my punishment, then.” Aaron replies, but he’s not throwing Robert out, so that’s a start.

“Tell me about the new book.” Robert says, falling onto the couch.

“No.” Aaron replies, crossing his arms.

Robert shrugs. “Tell me about yourself, then. You’re a very difficult man to stalk on the internet.”

Aaron blinks at him, making not move to answer, but he looks almost pleased. Then again it’s difficult to say what with the stubborn lack of expression or reply. 

“Your first book then. I’m dying here.” Robert tries.

Aaron sighs, clearly defeated. “What do you want to know?”

-

“No.” Aaron says when he opens the door and finds Robert on the other side, but this time he at least lets Robert in of his own volition. Robert takes it as a win.

-

It’s been a difficult day at the office. Chrissie has been breathing on his neck about some manuscript he hasn’t read yet, despite the fact that the author is a friend of a friend of an important person. On top of that a new author they just signed recognized his last name and asked questions about his dad. 

Normally it wouldn’t faze him, but it’s near the anniversary of Jack’s death, which means he’s been thinking about their relationship more than usual. They’re not happy thoughts.

He should go home, shower, go to bed early and hope he wakes up tomorrow feeling better, but he doesn’t. He goes to Aaron’s.

“You look terrible.” Aaron greets him. 

The fact that even Aaron’s surly company is better than nothing, says everything about Robert’s state of mind. Not that he’s going to tell him that. 

“Thank you for your kind words.” Robert replies, sinking into Aaron’s couch. “I shouldn’t have come here, I still have a ton of work to do.” He continues, without actually making any move to get up.

Aaron shrugs. “Suits me. I’ve got writing to do.”

They spend most of the evening in silence, Aaron tapping away on his laptop and Robert reading through a new novel set during the American Civil War. He doesn’t mind the occasional historical novel, and all things considered, this is a rather well-written one, but the central conflict of the book is the relationship between a father and his son, and today it’s just cutting too close to home.

He’s just about to give up and go home when Aaron closes his laptop shut. 

“Come on, let’s go.” Aaron says, getting up.

“Where?” Robert asks.

“Pub. I can’t see you moping in my flat like this.” Aaron replies. Robert gets up.

“I’m touched.” Robert says, sarcasm dripping from his words. “If you’re not careful we might even become friends.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

-

They’re talking about Aaron’s first book. They do that a lot. Every visit, actually, which means once a week. 

Part of it is curiosity, Robert genuinely loves the book, and it’s not every day you get to pick the author’s brain about it, not like this. Aaron is unguarded and unpretentious when he talks about his work and Robert appreciates it. 

Another part however is purely professional. Robert hopes Aaron will let something slip about his new endeavor. Or that he’ll get to know Aaron’s process so well he’ll be able to guess. He knows which one he’d prefer. 

“Now I know why they don’t let you do much press.” Robert replies to one of Aaron’s particularly gruff remarks. 

“You cook?” Aaron asks, out of the blue, instead of replying to Robert’s comment.

“Why?” Robert asks, warily. This is an abrupt change of conversation, even for Aaron.

“Because I’m starving and you’re asking too many questions tonight.” Aaron replies, getting up from the couch.

Robert laughs but follows Aaron in the kitchen.

Aaron’s fridge and pantry are virtually empty, but there’s enough there to make some pasta and that should be enough to appease him. 

“You need to do the shopping.” Robert says, putting a pot of water on the stove. 

“Don’t cook much.” Aaron replies with a shrug.

“You’re gonna get scurvy.” Robert insists, putting all his ingredients on the counter, olive oil, garlic, chili peppers, an egg, and a box of spaghetti. 

“Thanks, Mum.” Aaron replies, hoisting himself up and sitting on the counter, close enough that Robert brushes against his leg every time he goes to take something. As soon as the water starts boiling Robert throws some salt in it and then the spaghetti.

“What are we having?” Aaron asks, looking at the assembled ingredients with skepticism. 

“Pasta _aglio e olio_.” Robert replies, over-pronouncing the words. He puts some of the oil with the garlic and the chili peppers on a skillet on medium heat. 

“Fancy.” Aaron says. Robert can’t quite tell if he means it or not.

“I spent some time working as a waiter in an Italian restaurant.” Robert sneaks a glance at Aaron. He looks perplexed, like he’s trying to figure the math out in his head. “It was while I was at uni.” Robert continues.

“Did you pay your way through?” Aaron asks. It seems innocent enough, but the underlying question is there. 

Robert has no illusion that Aaron doesn’t know exactly who he is, but this is the closest they’ve ever been to openly discussing Jack Sugden. There’s a queasy feeling in his stomach. Robert strains the pasta once it’s cooked through and puts it in the pan with the seasoning.

“How old are you, anyway?” Aaron asks, completely changing course.

“I’m older than I look.” Robert says, his shoulders sagging in relief, a tension he didn’t realize he was holding, suddenly dissipating.

“So, like, forty-five? Forty-six?” Aaron asks, laughing already at his own joke.

“Oi!” Robert protests, but he’s laughing too. “If you’re done making fun of me, tea’s ready.”

-

There’s something about Aaron Robert still can’t quite put his finger on. Like he’s hiding a secret that Robert should be able to crack. A secret he’s hiding in his writing, and if only Robert put more effort in it, he could find that out. 

Robert doesn’t really know what would happen if he did find out, but he thinks he’d like to know.

-

Aaron’s deadline is approaching, which means their evenings together get quieter. Aaron writing and Robert reading. It’s nice, being able to share silence with someone, neither one of them feeling the need to fill the space up with chatter to feel comfortable. 

-

It’s not that Robert didn’t see it coming, all authors get stressed as their deadline approaches, it’s that he didn’t see it coming quite like this. 

Aaron’s been stressed for a while now, spending more time pacing the room than writing. He won’t tell Robert what’s bothering him though, which means Robert’s feeling helpless. He doesn’t like that. 

“Aaron, come on, what’s wrong?” Robert asks for what feels like the thirtieth time.

“It’s not working.” Aaron replies, cryptically. “I need you to go.” He says eventually, turning towards Robert.

Robert rolls his eyes. “Not like this.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your book.” Aaron replies, sharper than usual.

“You know that’s not it.” Robert says. “We’re friends.” He continues, testing out the word ‘friends’ like it’s new in his mouth. They both know that’s not quite it, that there’s something more brewing between them, but they’re taking their time, waiting for some sort of arbitrary deadline to pass. Still, Aaron doesn’t seem in the mood for their flirting tonight and Robert won’t push it. Not yet. 

Aaron scoffs.

“Let me help you.” Robert says.

“I read your book.” Aaron says, the conversation changing course so fast it’s making Robert’s head spin. 

“What?”  Robert asks, stomach sinking to his knees.

“Your book. I read it.” Aaron replies, like it clarifies everything.

“Thanks for the sales boost.” Robert says as he gets up from the couch and goes for the door.

“Robert, wait.” Aaron says, gripping Robert’s wrist.

“When?” Robert asks.

“A month ago.” Aaron replies, letting Robert’s wrist go. Even in all of this Robert misses the contact.

“And you didn’t think to bring it up? Was it that bad?” Robert asks, voice too cutting to be a joke.

“Rob.” Aaron says, softly. Then his face sets into something unreadable as he continues. “It was fake. All of it. There wasn’t a sentence that was yours in it.”

“Thanks for the review.”

Robert makes sure to slam the door shut on his way out.

-

Robert hadn’t realized how engrained into his routine Aaron had gotten until it’s a week later and he’s at the office, stubbornly late, half working on a new manuscript from one of his authors. It’s a romance novel, not exactly his expertise, but her sales have been really good so he’s not going to complain.

“No Dingle house call tonight?” Leyla asks, only her eyes visible on top of the wall dividing their desks.

“Not tonight.” Robert says. Leyla shrugs and sits back down, going back to her work. 

This is stupid. They’ve had a fight. If Robert gave up on everyone he’s ever fought with he’d live in complete isolation in a secluded cabin in the Icelandic woods. 

Robert quickly puts his jacket on and drives to Aaron’s place. He’s halfway through mentally rehearsing his speech about how he can’t let Aaron’s temper tantrums ruin his career when he gets to Aaron’s door. It’s a good speech, too. Just funny and apologetic enough that he knows Aaron will see right through it. 

They’ve been circling each other for the better part of four months now, it was only normal that the tension would snap, one way or the other. Robert would have preferred sex, but hey, there’s always time.  

Except, when he knocks on the door no one answers.

Robert tries Aaron’s phone, but after a couple of rings Aaron sends him to voicemail.

-

Robert gets to work early, the lack of sleep propelling him out of bed at an indecent hour. The night before he’d tried calling Aaron again a couple of times and even waiting for him in front of his building, but either Aaron was avoiding him, or he was busy. Robert isn’t sure which option he likes less. 

He’s just reached his desk when he stops dead in his tracks. There’s package on it. It’s an envelope, something big and bulky inside.

“They left that for you last night.” Leyla says, already at the office, looking no worse for wear, despite clocking off later than Robert the night before. “After you left.”

“Who left it?” Robert asks. 

“Not sure, he was one of your authors though. Scruffy, black hoodie.” She continues, taking a sip of her tea. 

Robert rips the envelope open before Leyla’s last word has even left her mouth. Nestled inside is Aaron’s black journal. Still held together by an elastic band and a prayer. Now that he’s looking at it up close he can see that the black leather is scratched in places, some of it just wear and tear, other scratches look like As, probably done with a pocket knife. Robert holds is in his hands, it’s heavier than he expected. 

There’s a post-it note stuck to the other side. In Aaron’s messy scrawl is written _read it – Aaron_. 

There’s something intimate about reading someone’s work, there’s always pieces of them stuck in it, glass fragments of their lives stuck in the pages. There’s parts of Aaron’s book Robert knows are autobiographical, without Aaron having to say it. They vibrate at a different frequency than the rest and Robert can tell.

But this is different. Aaron’s books have been edited and polished, deemed by Aaron safe enough to be read by others. This isn’t polished, was never meant to be read by anyone else. Robert can appreciate the effort Aaron must have gone through to part with it. 

Robert hold the journal and he knows he has to make a choice. He could chuck the journal, unread, inside the same drawer that houses his father’s novels – the bottom left one, wrap it back up and leave it in Aaron’s mailbox after work. He could get reassigned, he doubts Chrissie would hold this particular failure against him. 

Or he could read it. He could find out what Aaron wants him to know. He could give it back to Aaron in person. They could talk. There’s something terrifying about it, about being given such power, about being trusted so blindly. He could fuck it all up so easily.

In the end, Robert’s self-aware enough to know his choice was made months ago when he knocked on Aaron’s door.

He starts reading the journal.

It’s messy, but by now Robert’s gotten good at deciphering Aaron’s writing and his lack of a filing system. There seems to be a mix of things, half written scenes, bits of dialogue, some of Aaron’s own journal entries, even a few shopping lists. 

Robert devours all of it, this insight into Aaron’s life and Aaron’s writing. He reads the scenes that would go on to become one of the best debut novels of the century and he understands why Aaron is so secretive about his first drafts.

There’s none of Aaron’s rough and hard-won gentleness there, none of the tenderness that devastated Robert on his first read. It’s all ugliness and pain, wrapped around the protagonist, around the author, like it can protect him from the wounds life has inflicted. 

Aaron writes like the wind because writing comes easy to him, Robert’s learned this much. He writes and he writes, because writing eases the pain, and there’s a lot of pain. The gentleness, that’s hard-won, that takes effort, that takes multiple drafts, multiple rewrites. 

The journal is an apology for things that aren’t Aaron’s fault and a defiant defense of things that are.

If Robert weren’t already more than half in love with Aaron this would be it.

He stops reading right before he can get to the entries about Aaron’s new novel. He wraps the journal back up, reverently. 

-

Robert gets to Aaron’s flat in record time. He pounds on the door so loudly he’s pretty sure someone is going to call the police on him. It doesn’t matter, it never mattered, but it especially stops mattering the moment Aaron opens the door, bleary eyed and in his pajamas. 

“It’s 10 am.” Robert says, in lieu of a greeting, shouldering his way past Aaron and into the living room. 

“Yes, I own a watch.” Aaron replies, but it lacks the usual bite. He’s eyeing the package in Robert’s hands like it’s about to explode. In a sense, he’s right.

“I read it.” Robert says, thrusting it into Aaron’s hands. Aaron’s fingers close around it, his white knuckles betraying his worry.

Before Aaron can say anything, Robert grabs his hoodie and crashes his body into Aaron’s, one of Robert’s hands coming up to cradle Aaron’s head, the other on Aaron’s back.

Aaron tenses, just for a second, his hands still holding the journal in front of himself, between his body and Robert’s. Then he relaxes, his hands coming to rest on Robert’s back.

They stay like that for what feels like forever and no time at all, Robert’s eyes closed and Aaron pressed solid and warm against him, smelling of sleep and the laundry detergent Robert smelled on his first visit. 

Robert opens his eyes and takes Aaron’s face between his hands. They’re still impossible close, Aaron’s hands now on Robert’s hips. Robert takes a moment to take it in, to look into Aaron’s eyes, to feel the touch of Aaron’s skin, to taste the anticipation on his own lips before he tastes Aaron’s.

Aaron makes a noise of frustration in the back of his throat, and deciding he’s had enough, kisses Robert like it’s the only thing he wants in the world. If he feels even a fraction of what Robert’s feeling, it is.

They end up on Aaron’s couch, their couch, not even making it to the bedroom.

-

The dedication for Aaron’s second book reads:

_ To Robert. He knows why. _

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr @ robertjacobsugdens


End file.
